


Rafael Barba Is Not A Victim

by CaseyBarson12



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Angry Olivia Benson, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Rafael Barba, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Catholic Character, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Rafael Barba, Episode: s19e13 The Undiscovered Country, F/M, Family Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hurt Rafael Barba, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Rafael Barba, Parent-Child Relationship, Pining Rafael Barba, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson Friendship, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Depression, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 41,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyBarson12/pseuds/CaseyBarson12
Summary: Rafael Barba is many things, the chief being, an asshole. He's brash, sarcastic, witty, and isn't afraid to voice his opinion. He's a fighter. A survivor. Hate him or love him, one thing's for sure. The lawyer who fought his way out of the Bronx is not a victim. Until he is. Will the squad be able to help put a stone man back together that they didn't even know could break?
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Nevada Ramirez, Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 154
Kudos: 93





	1. A Short Walk

**Author's Note:**

It was little after ten o'clock at night, and Rafael had been done with the day almost since it started. He really needed a break.

He was dealing with a mess of a case, connected to some old cases he worked back in the Kings County D.A's Office. Repeat offenders popping up again after all these years, the lead prosecutor contacting Rafael and bringing him in as co-counsel on the newer case, hoping to finally make some of their priors stick. All the cases leading back to Washington Heights here in Manhattan.

That'd already given him a migraine and a half, but then the 16th's SVU had just caught a rather draining case as well. A father had kidnapped his son.

Of course, SVU jumped immediately into trying to remedy the situation, locating the father and infant, but the waters only got more muddled from that point on.

As it turned out, the baby, Drew Householder, was extremely ill. The mess turned into a legal battle over the parents' right to allow baby Drew, who suffered from Mitochondrial DNA Depletion Syndrome, to die. The baby's mother – Maggie – wanted to end Drew's suffering, the baby boy having no brain functions and unable to hear, see, or eat normally. Aaron had taken Drew as he didn't want to take this action. He was still holding out hope for his child's recovery.

Aaron had quickly been tracked to a house in Sheepshead, New York where he's set up a life support system for Drew. The SVU squad arrived on the scene, with backup, and Benson managed to successfully diffuse the situation.

At that point, Rafael had been contacted. Later, at SVU, the parents – separately - discussed Drew's heart-wrenching and hopeless medical situation, and they eventually reconciled. Catching the look on Rafael's face, the case clearly hitting a little close to home for him, Benson told Rafael that no one was forcing him to prosecute. Rafael replied that if he didn't, he is telling the world that baby Drew has no rights. He asked the squad to find out if the kidnapping caused the baby any harm, wanting to know so he could prosecute the father and maybe get some sleep in the next decade or so.

The whole day, thoughts of everything that had happened with his own father ran through his mind. He knew the District Attorney was going to force him to prosecute, but he didn't want to send Aaron to prison. Not for this. The man didn't deserve it.

That melancholy led to him drinking way more than he should've when he finally got off work, immediately heading to Forlini's for several drinks.

He'd finally gotten home and poured himself another drink before needing some fresh air desperately. The anxiety and stress getting the better of him, as well as a little of the guilt for having drunk so much given his own father's predilection. Regardless, the apartment just felt so stifling, and it was like a wave of claustrophobia came over him. He needed to get out.

Not altogether steady on his feet, he threw a jacket on, quickly grabbing his keys. He left his apartment with such purpose he didn't even register the black Escalade that sat just across the street from where he was.

Turning right immediately, he started making his way down to the little bodega two blocks away that he regularly frequented, not intending to buy anything in particular, but not really knowing where else to go.

He'd been on the last turn, kitty-corner from the bodega, when he frowned, spotting a black car just sitting there, but continued on his way, trying to get out of there.

He'd made it partway down the street, trying to call Benson, as she lived nearest to him, knowing he'd likely just got himself in some serious trouble.

Before he had a chance to press dial, the phone was knocked out of Rafael's hand. He couldn't miss the amusement in the person's voice, nor the feeling of what was almost certainly a gun being pushed roughly into his side and a hand placed on his mouth. The threat clear: _Cooperate or you'll be left for dead in some seedy back alleyway - if they ever find the body at all._ "No seas tonto, Abogado." (Don't be stupid, Counsellor.)

The man removed his hand from his mouth. Rafael swallowed, recognizing that voice almost immediately. He'd heard that voice more than once over the years when he lived in Brooklyn. Cursing himself for being such an unobservant idiot and getting himself into this mess, he fought to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "¿Qué quieres?" (What do you want?)

The other man laughed, grabbing Rafael, moving him so they were face to face. He was dressed from the neck down in all black, with a leather jacket, and a cross hanging off his neck. The scent of cigars, noticeable immediately, along with the look in his eyes that sent chills down Rafael's spine.

"¿Por qué no vienes aquí, Guapo?" (Why don't you come here, Handsome.)

He slid his hand down Rafael's leg, feeling him up. Fear the only thing keeping Rafael where he was.

"Ni de coña. ¡Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" Rafael hissed after a moment, speech slightly slurred, as he tried to push the man away. "¡Déjame en paz!" (Not a damn chance. Go to hell, you bastard. Leave me alone.)

He should have expected the harsh slap across the face that greeted him in response to that comment. _Remember who you're dealing with._

Just then Rafael realized they weren't alone. Two men had gotten out of the car, watching them. His eyes went wide with fear.

The man laughed. "¿Ya tienes miedo? Apenas te he tocado, patético cobarde. Pero te prometo esto." He caressed Rafael's forehead before roughly grabbing his hair, forcing the lawyer to look up at him. "Te voy a enseñar una lección que _nunca_ olvidarás." (Already afraid? I've barely even touched you, you pathetic coward. But I promise you this. I'm going to teach you a lesson that you will _never_ forget.)

Moving the gun and pushing it against Rafael's temple, the man gave Rafael a shove towards the black car. "Get in, Abogado." He gave Rafael a pointed look. "If you behave maybe I won't have to pay a little visit to the Bronx."

The look of horror on Rafael's face said everything, and he just wanted puke right then and there. His mother. He had to protect his mother. "Please," Rafael managed to croak out.

Amused and satisfied he'd made his point, the man gave Rafael another harsh shove towards that damned car. "Entra, you little maricón. Y mantén tu linda boquita cerrada. Por ahora." (Get in, you little faggot. And keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut. For now.)

Screaming internally, Rafael did as he was told, forcing his legs to work despite them feeling like they'd give out under him in any second. Praying harder than he'd prayed in years for someone to help him. Trying with everything in him to not focus on the feeling of him being undressed, of hands all over him, of the other man's thing being forced into his mouth, the feeling of choking, the feeling of being forced onto his stomach and being sodomized while he could hear siren's and laughter and chatter all around them, just wanting to go numb but not being able to as every action forced him back into the reality of what was happening. The things he was being forced to do.


	2. Everything Has Changed

Rafael was a mess when he finally stumbled back into his apartment sometime later. He wasn't sure how he'd actually made it back to the apartment on his own given the state he was in, but found himself triple-checking the locks on the door before going and trying to get out of the clothes he was in.

He found a pair of sweat pants and his old Harvard sweater and threw them on. He wanted a shower so badly, but the small, somehow still logical part of his mind, was telling him not to, no matter how badly he wanted to. So, his earlier clothes, all of which were garbage at this point in his opinion, were tossed aside in a pile.

He wanted nothing to do with pressing charges or going up against the asshole who assaulted him and was terrified of it becoming public knowledge given the reporters would have a field day with a senior ADA being assaulted. He didn't want to be a hypocrite either though. _You have a civic duty._

He felt horrible now for throwing those words at that man's face now, but, nonetheless, it was true. Nothing could be done about somebody if nobody came forward and actually stood their ground.

Still, given who it was... the man was basically Teflon. He honestly felt he'd never get a conviction in a million Sundays. Everyone under the sun would just be paid off. And if that didn't happen, he'd be the next body in the morgue.

Still, the larger part of him wanted to talk to Benson. If any team stood a chance, they did, and she was his best friend.

As torn as he was, he really wanted to talk to his best friend right now.

Refusing to cry, he forced himself to hold it together and went and poured himself another drink that he downed quickly, the events of the night replaying over and over again in his mind.

He didn't get much sleep that night.

Waking up groggy, he had a couple of seconds of reprieve before it all came back to him, making him feel like he couldn't breathe.

After a coffee, he forced himself to make a little effort appearance-wise, trying to cover up the bruises he had, throwing on a dark blue wool sweater and grey dress pants, and messing with his hair.

Checking the time, he called a taxi, grabbed his things, and headed downstairs, leaving for the 16th precinct, which he would have to do regardless as they were supposed to have a meeting.

He was quiet the entire ride to the precinct, not feeling much up to talking and just wanting to get out of the car.

"Rough night?"

"You could say that," he said. "Bad hangover."

The driver gave a snort. "Been there, man. Get a greasy lunch."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He knew the driver pretty well, so he didn't want to give away much or be particularly rude. The guy had nothing to do with what happened, so he didn't want to take it out on him.

Grabbing his bag, he shoved several twenties at the driver, mumbled "keep the change" and started walking to the door.

Wiping his face, trying to gather himself a bit, he walked inside, fists clenched, not exactly looking forward to the mess that the day was sure to bring.

Walking into the precinct was harder than he expected, knowing full well that the second he walked in, not wearing a suit, questions were going to be asked. Steadying himself, he forced the door open, trying to tune everything out as he made his way to the SVU squad room.

As expected, all eyes were immediately on him. Everyone wearing various looks of confusion or shock on their faces.

He made eye contact with Benson, making a vague gesture towards her office. Nodding she started walking there, Rafael following close behind.

Before he closed the door to Benson's office, he heard Rollins make a comment to Carisi and Fin, not altogether quiet. "What do y'all think's going on?"

He didn't bother listening to whatever the detectives' replies were.

The door closed, Benson closed the blinds, perhaps suspecting by the look on Rafael's face that he might want some actual privacy. He appreciated it because he had no idea how he was actually going to get through this conversation.

"Rafa," she said softly, "what's going on?" He gave her a sad smile, tossing her the bag. More questions than answers, she didn't hesitate to look inside, putting the pieces of the puzzle easily upon seeing the clothes inside. "Talk to me."

He took a deep breath. "Last night, um, I went for a walk. Heading to the store. Not for anything in particular, but I just needed out of the apartment, you know..." She nodded, silently encouraging him to continue talking. "I've been working with Kings County on some cold cases that have been reopened."

"I know."

"Well, Nevada Ramírez..." He swallowed, a lump in his throat. "Trujillo, he followed me. I didn't notice it immediately. I'd been drinking, not paying attention."

"Stop right there, Rafa," she said gently. "It's not your fault."

He licked his lips before forcing himself to continue. "I was just across the street from the store and then... He had a gun... he wasn't alone either."

"Do you know who the others were?" she asked gently, trying hard to keep her own composure given how close to home this was for her. Talking to a friend.

He shook his head in the negative. "Two of his patsies. Don't know their names. I might've seen the one before, but I'm not sure. I could be confusing him with someone else. It's been a few years since we've crossed paths."

"Can you describe them?"

"Uh, mid-thirties maybe," he said. "well, the one might be a bit younger. Late Twenties. One was darker, but the other had my colouring. Both clearly Latino, though. Dark hair. One was wearing a grey baggy sweater at first. It was corny, like something you'd buy at some tourist trap. _Nueva York._ The other, just a lot of black. Ramírez as well. Black pants and a leather jacket."

She nodded. "Good, good. Can you remember any names? Or any personal details?"

He shook his head. "I can't. They used nicknames, but I couldn't tell you what they actually were. I wasn't exactly focused on them talking to each other."

"Understandable," she said. "What about personal details?"

"Umm, the one with the grey sweater," he stammered, "he had a small scar."

"Where?"

"His outer thigh," Rafael said with a shrug. "Almost like he'd been stabbed."

She scribbled the information down. "What happened then?"

"He -" He fought back a sob threatening to escape. Not well, by any means, but he was damn well trying. "He forced me into the car, I tried... he threatened Mami, and I..." Another sob escaped.

She looked at him. "Do you need a break, Rafa?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He hated this but knew he had to continue or he wouldn't be able to get it out. Discussing it once was bad enough.

"He forced me into the car and made me, uh, they... I was raped. Sodomized."

"What time was all this?"

"Um," he said, "sometime after ten o'clock. A little before eleven."

He honestly hadn't been paying much attention to the time given other more pressing concerns he'd had at the time.

"Did you have a shower or anything?"

"No."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Ok, um, let's get you to the hospital, and we'll go from there. Ok?"

He shook his head. "Liv, I... I don't know how to do this."

She looked at him sadly. "Just take it one thing at a time." She grabbed his hand and bag, gently leading him out of the room. A million and one things going through both their heads.

He just wanted to forget. He wished he could turn back the clock and stop himself from being so stupid the previous night. He just wanted to forget.


	3. SANE

Walking into the hospital had somehow been harder than walking into the precinct had been. At first, the rather invasive exam had been humiliating, but after some time a wave of apathy mixed with anger washed over him, and he latched onto it. Needing it. The anger was easier to handle than everything else.

He hadn't had any serious injuries, so they quickly started asking him about his history. Any current medications, any pre-existing conditions, and any and all recent sexual activity. He also had to explain some more about the attack and what had happened.

All the things he had known would happen. He'd been familiar with the process for years, given his line of work. However, going through it was something else altogether.

The start of it was fine, but things had gone from slightly embarrassing to downright humiliating when it was time for the head-to-toe examination. It was a full body examination, the internal examinations of the mouth and anus a given, despite what Rafael wanted. He had some blood taken, hair samples, swabs of different body surface areas, and a couple of photos of some bruising he had. They'd also taken his clothes, as he knew they would.

When the risk of STIs was brought up to him, it took everything in Rafael to hold it together. The thought of catching something like HIV absolutely terrified him.

He was offered prevention treatment and had to make a follow-up appointment with a doctor before they allowed him to throw on some clothes and leave.

Discharge papers in hand, he made his way over to Benson who was waiting for him by the door. He took a shaky breath. "Well, that sucked."

She gave him a sad smile. "I know. I'm sorry."

Another shaky breath. "It's fine. Not your fault." He gave her a pointed looked. "I'm not... I don't know how to tell the others." He shook his head. "My mother... Dios mío, how am I supposed to tell her? This'll make the news. She can't find out like that. She'll... It'll... I don't want..."

"Breathe, Rafa." She breathed deliberately, allowing him to mimic her breathing and calm down some. Once he felt more in control of himself, she spoke again. "If you want I'll go with you when you tell her. Your call. You also only have to tell her what you feel comfortable with. You can simply say you were attacked and that the case'll be high profile. You don't owe her any more detail than that. You can always tell her more later when you're ready." She moved to squeeze his hand, but he flinched slightly, so she pulled back. "As for McCoy and Carmen... They've been notified. You have two weeks off, although McCoy asked me to tell you that you can take all the time you need. The squad, they probably already have an idea, but I can be there for that too." She looked him in the eye. "It's not your fault."

"I know."

"You _know,"_ she agreed, "but you need to _believe_ it as well."

Well, she was right about your heart and head being able to tell you two different things. Still, he wasn't entirely comfortable with having the current conversation.

He nodded, swallowing. "Let's just get back to the precinct."

The drive back to the 1-6 was in fairly comfortable silence, Rafael simply focusing on the radio to help keep himself out of his head.

Telling the squad had been just as uncomfortable as the previous two times he had to tell the story, but, unfortunately, he knew he would likely have to get used to it. If it did manage to successfully go to trial, he had absolutely no illusions about it being a shorter, relatively easy, trial in any way, shape, or form. No. Ramírez would drag it out and make it as painful for him as possible.

In that vein, he also wasn't looking forward to staying in a hotel and having a security detail. He'd hated the security detail the first time as well, Rafael was smart enough not to refuse it when Benson made it clear it wasn't a suggestion. If he was honest, it also gave him a sense if relief. Security. Not that he liked losing a huge portion of his privacy and independence.

The squad's reactions to the news were mixed. Carisi looked like someone had knocked off his rose coloured glasses. Everyone else, various degrees of righteous anger over what happened. That someone hurt one of their own.

It had surprised Rafael in a way, simply because he didn't always get the impression that Tutuola or Rollins were exceptionally fond of him, even if they did have a good working relationship. He knew he wasn't always the easiest person to work with, and Olivia Benson was, by and large, who he was closest to. Somewhere along the line, Benson had become one of his closest friends. That only exasperated by the fact that he'd lost two of his best friends and had to fight to keep his friendship with the other. Things had been awkward between him and Eddie for some time before they managed to mostly put things behind them. Still, he knew he shouldn't be surprised that the pair of detectives were ready to go to bat on his behalf.

After trying to force him to eat something, Benson offered to go with him to his mother's, but he'd declined the offer, telling her that it was something he had to do on his own. He didn't want to appear any weaker in front of her than he already had. That didn't help the knot in his stomach, however, as he finally made the trip to his childhood home in Concourse just before three o'clock. The lieutenant had, thankfully, agreed to put off calling for the protective detail until after he talked to his mother, but made him promise to text her and let her know he was alright.

When the uber driver made the left turn, continuing past Jerome Avenue, it came with a mixture of relief and apprehension. Shaking his head, he forced himself to calm down and make the short walk down Gerard to his mother's apartment building.

He sighed lightly as he knocked on the door to the apartment, his mother opening the door moments later a look of slight surprise and concern etched on her face. "¿Papito, no es que no me alegra verte, pero qué pasa?" (Papito, not that I'm not glad to see you, but what's going on?)

He gave her a sad smile as he walked into the apartment, taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. He looked over at his mother who was clearly wanting to know why her son had shown up out of the blue. "Tenemos que hablar." (We need to talk.)

"Okay," she said. "¿Quieres un café mientras estás aquí?" She gestured to the couch in the middle of the room. "Al menos siéntate." (Ok. Do you want a coffee while you're here? At least sit down.)

Never one to turn down a good cup of coffee, he agreed and took a seat. He then waited while his mother went to the kitchen and grabbed them both a cup of Bustelo.

He took a sip of the coffee passed to him, savouring it.

She looked at him, curiosity going in full force. She wanted answers and intended to get them sooner rather than later. "¿Qué te pica, Mijo?" (What's bugging you, Mijo?)

He sighed deeply. This conversation honestly couldn't be over soon enough in Rafael's opinion. "Mami... Fui asaltado anoche cuando estaba caminando." (Mami... I was assaulted last night when I was out walking.)

"No te ves herido," she said looking him over, concern etched on her face. It took a minute but he soon saw the understanding dawn on her as to what exactly he meant. "Rafi... ¿No quieres decir...?” (You don't look hurt. Rafi... you don't mean...?)

He gave her a curt nod. His mother looked lost for a second before pulling him in for a hug, not knowing what else to do. He flinched back, but she held on to him as the tremors started. He hated it, being afraid of his own damn mother giving him a hug. Taking a shaky breath, he relaxed into the hug. "Oh, mi niño. Lo siento. Lo siento mucho." (Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. So so sorry.)

Emotionally drained, he didn't even try to stop the tears that were now falling as he held onto his mother as if his life depended on it.

Despite the earlier shower, he still felt dirty, violated, and guilty, and more than a little afraid. Most of all, guilty because he felt he should have fought harder. It was stupid, he knew logically, but the knowledge did nothing to assuage it.

He hated this. Every second of it.


	4. A Snitch Indeed

Nevada Ramírez being difficult came as no surprise, but they successfully managed to bring him in and after a line up the man was sitting in police custody.

At arraignment, the man was granted bail. Even though it was a rather substantial amount it was little comfort given the fact that he knew Trujilo had rather extensive resources available to him.

The security detail on both him and his mother had provided some piece of mind, although also irritated both of them, as both Barbas were definitely used to and preferred their privacy and independence. But, they put up with the irritation regardless. Rafael had actually quickly gotten sick of being cooped up in the hotel and actually ended up moving in with his mother briefly as she'd pushed for it and he honestly felt more comfortable being able to actually see she was alright.

Rafael was just generally exhausted, however, even with everything going on. When he wasn't stressed out with the trial proceedings and everything going on with his case, he was exhausted because he just couldn't sleep.

The nightmares were becoming a frequent thing, and although he had tried not to disturb her, he knew his mother was aware he was getting very little sleep. Still, he'd finally had enough and gotten rid of his protective detail after a couple of weeks passing by free of any sort of incident.

He was heading home from trial prep, having moved back into his own apartment the previous night, and just got out of the uber, when he noticed some vaguely familiar faces that didn't belong. All of whom were standing near the door to his apartment. It took a minute for him to place them. Frankie 'el Limón' Ortiz, who was, simply put, Trujillo's caballon, as well as Nicolás Hernandez. Carlos Hernandez's, one of the men who'd attacked him, older brother. He'd been the one in the _Nueva York_ shirt. Then a little farther down the street, clearly blocking the main exit, was another one of the man's thugs.

Rafael glanced around and noticed the drug kingpin getting out of his car. This wasn't good. Not in the slightest.

He glanced around to see what his options were, and fighting down his fear, Rafael ran in the opposite direction, hoping to god he could make it to a more public area where they'd either back off or he could call for help. Rafael wasn't the greatest fighter, but he could be damn quick when he needed to be.

He managed to get to a bar, slowed down, and calmly walked to the bathroom, locking the stall door behind him and getting up on the seat so his feet wouldn't be seen. He quickly texted his mother and the guard with her making sure they were ok, before texting Benson one word: ' _Ramírez_.'

She texted back immediately, asking where he was. He had just started writing a reply when the doors opened, the merry band of thugs coming in.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" came Trujillo’s voice, pushing one of the stall doors in. "Come on. Solo quiero hablar." (I just want to talk.)

He gulped as another stall door was pushed in, and another taunt came out of Trujillo’s mouth. Taking a shaky breath, Rafael finished the text to Benson before deleting it on his end. Physically tired from the running, he moved to adjust his position and lost his footing, making a very audible bang. _Shit_!

Not missing the crash, the drug kingpin was now standing right in front of the stall Rafael was currently hiding in. "Abogado, do you really want to be the reason that one of the customers here gets hurt? And what about your mother? Do you think she's noticed su proteccion has been, uh, disposed of?" The man's voice was smug, and Rafael just wanted to vomit. He had no doubt what the crazy lunatic meant by that last comment. "Come out and I'll tell them to leave your mother alone."

He forced himself to open the stall door and step out. He quickly found himself thrown against the wall by Trujillo's little band of thugs.

Trujillo immediately got right up into Rafael's space, an unnerving smile on his face. "Good. Now, was that so hard, you little _chivato_? Hmm?" At ' _snitch'_ the man pushed his gun roughly into Rafael's side. "Esto es lo que vamos a hacer. Vas a mantener tu linda boquita cerrada mientras salimos por la puerta trasera para tener una pequeña conversación." Trujillo put a fair amount pressure around Rafael's throat, making it hard to breathe. "¿Entiendes?" (Here's what we're going to do. You're going to keep your pretty little mouth shut while we go out the backdoor to have a little conversation. Understood?)

Trujillo removed his hand, and Rafael instantly nodded.

There had been little issue getting out the back door, fortunately or unfortunately depending on the way one looked at it.

He was then pulled into the little side alley, and Trujillo gestured for the little band of goons to leave and keep an eye out and for one of them to get the car.

Rafael instinctively gulped when he was left alone with Trujillo and the man returned his attention to him. The man had an intense look in his eyes. They were like ice on fire; sharp and gleaming with a promise. The promise of pain. _I just have to keep it together until help arrives. Hold yourself together, Rafael. Benson has to have officers on their way by now._

He wasn't altogether surprised when he found himself shoved roughly to the wet, snowy, ground and hit and kicked _._ He didn't fight, not wanting to make things worse. This he could take. The hits were easier to handle. A moment later, the other man suddenly stopped, grabbing Rafael by the collar and pulling him to his feet, choking Rafael slightly. "Eres patético." (You're pathetic.)

He struggled weakly, too exhausted mentally, as Trujillo manhandled him, forcing his face against the brick wall, and threw Rafael’s coat to the ground.

He let out another small whimper as moments after Trujillo dropped his pants to the ground he felt the other mans erection press up against him. He closed his eyes, wanting to be anywhere else but there. He knew it was ultimately useless, but he couldn't help it.

The other man was rather rough, unsurprisingly, but Rafael gave in and didn't fight any, not wanting to prolong what was happening.

Trujillo's breathing turned into harsh gasps and his hands clench painfully against Rafael's hips.

The other man finally came, with a gasp and a painful thrust, and, thankfully got off Rafael - who quickly pulled up his pants, trying not to think about, well, anything that was going on. "Di algo esta vez y la próxima vez será tu madre que jodo. ¿Entiendes, _Pendejo_?" (Say something this time and next time it will be your mother that I fuck. Got it, _Pendejo?)_

Rafael was saved from replying to that given Benson and the rest of the squad's apparent arrival. One of Trujillo's lookouts managed to get out a warning to the man before running off themselves.

"Retira los cargos." The man give Rafael one last warning look before quickly making his way over to the black car. (Drop the charges.)

Moments later they appeared, just in time to see Trujillo getting in the car and driving off. Fin tried to stop him from getting away, but it was no use.

With him gone they immediately set to work figuring out, or trying to, what all had just happened: why he was with Nevada Ramírez of all people and if he'd been hurt. Rafael wasn't exactly forthcoming, however.

He could feel the dead emptiness rushing back in, and slowly looked up.

Benson sighed. "Rafa, you have to talk to us."

He looked at her, and spoke. His voice empty and blank. "Lieutenant, I told you, I overreacted. I'm sorry that you came all the way down here for this."

Fin eyed him. "Barba -"

He put a hand out, stopping him. "I also want to drop all charges."

Benson's expression was something akin to her having been metaphorically slapped across the face, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Fin was hard to read, but he didn't put much effort into it.

"Rafael -"

He looked at Benson, willing her not to see through the artificial certainty. "I'm fine."

With that, he quickly leaves, responding to his mother's messages and voicemail assuring him that she was fine as were the officers with her, although they'd been found tied up. And as he walked passed the mirror to get into the shower, he avoided it, scared of what he would see there. He felt empty and dead. Numb.

It didn't matter how many times it happened, it never seemed to get any easier. And the shower did little to get rid of how dirty he felt.

Even getting out of the shower, combing his hair, he didn't bother looking in the mirror. He was sure that if he looked, he wouldn't see anything worth looking at.


	5. Just Keep Fighting

Throwing on jeans and his slightly baggy Harvard sweater, Rafael poured and downed a glass of scotch before quickly pouring another one. He'd do anything, just to get rid of these thoughts, whispers, in his mind.

He was trying so hard to have all his stuff together, to keep his head straight, but it seemed like he was just sort of falling apart on the inside. He couldn't seem to shake this. Get passed it.

 _One day at a time._ A sneer formed on his lips as that crossed his mind. _"_ Whoever wrote that one hadn't a clue," Rafael thought, not realizing he'd actually said the rumination aloud. "A day is a fucking eternity."

He was three drinks into a bottle of scotch when he was pulled out of the mess in his head by a knock on the door. He ignored it, taking another sip of his drink, hoping whoever it was would just go away and leave him alone.

Unfortunately, if the incessant banging was anything to go by, that was looking like a pipe dream. The banging was getting more desperate.

"Rafael," came Benson's voice. "I know you're in there, so open up." She waited a moment seeing if she'd get a response from him. "I'm not above going to your super and using my position here. Entiendes?" (Understood?)

He should have known Benson would find him. She always did.

Rafael sighed heavily into his drink before getting up and staggering over to the door, opening for the sympathetic and yet a-force-to-be-reckoned-with lieutenant who'd managed to weasel her way into his heart, somehow becoming his best friend.

"Hey," she said softly, entering his apartment and taking a seat on the couch, Rafael following suit, glass in hand. "You need to talk."

He chuckled softly, no real humour in it. "I'd rather not."

"Rafael, please talk to me. What happened earlier?" The concern in her voice almost making Rafael want to open up to her. Almost.

"Nothing," he said, tired eyes meeting hers at last. "I told you, Liv, I'd just overreacted when I felt cornered."

His assurance didn't seem to ease her concern at all, her seeing right through the lies, and he felt her grasp his shoulder lightly as he turned back to his scotch.

"And we both know that's bullshit," Benson said. She squeezed his shoulder. "I'm here as a friend, Rafa. Not a detective."

He ran his finger around the rim of his glass before downing the rest of it in one go and hesitantly looking over at her, biting his lip.

"Rafael, talk to me," she said. "What happened that's got you so scared?" She'd never expected in a month of Sundays that Rafael would fold and back off the case. She knew something had happened earlier, even if he denied it. "

"Liv…." he looked at her with pleading eyes. "Drop it. Please."

"Por qué, Rafa?" (Why, Rafa?)

He swallowed nervously. He was so torn, and couldn't seem to force the words he needed passed his lips.

She sighed and took the conversation in a direction he wasn't expecting. "You know, most people have no idea what utter terror is. What pure and utter terror is. You know, they say that your heart beats faster, but that's not true. It doesn't. It stops. Everything stops. You don't breathe because you're scared that it might upset him. And if you get a cramp in your foot, you tell yourself, 'Just let it throb' because you'll live through that pain. And that's a hell of a lot better than what... what he'll do to you. And the pain is so complete and it's so... it's so overwhelming. You don't close your eyes after because you're so damn scared that you'll never open them again. You pray. You pray, 'Please, God, don't let him climb on top of me again.'"

Rafael's breathing hitched and his voice broke as he spoke, her words hitting much too close to home. "Liv -"

She squeezed his hand. "Nobody should have to live like that, Rafa. Nobody."

His hands were now shaking, and he could feel his stomach heave. He didn't make it to the bathroom, her following close behind, and his thoughts pounded in his head in unison with his heartbeat, overwhelming him.

He felt no amount of him trying to explain himself was going to do any good. How could it? He didn't even know what was going on inside of him, so how could he have explained it to her? And yet...

When he calmed down, she led him back to the couch. "You're a fighter, Rafa. Look at everything you've overcome. Don't give up now."

He looked up at her, close to tears. "How do you do it, Liv?"

She'd been sexually assaulted twice over the years, and had been close and seen a hell of a lot over the years, and still managed to hold herself together. Even during everything with Lewis, which he still felt some guilt about, he felt she had held herself together a million times better than he had been lately.

She gave him a rather bittersweet smile. "Some things, you can put them behind you… but they do change you. I'll never really be over it, but I can live with it now and I have my life back." She squeezed his hand. "You survived the abuse. You're gonna survive the recovery." She gave him a pointed look. "But you need to talk to me, Rafa. You need to let someone in. Por favor."

He took a shaky breath, and finally decided to actually talk. "I want to forget, but instead, the things that I remember... all these little details, seem to grow stronger, to the point where I can feel their weight in my chest."

She nodded, clearly trying to hold herself together for his sake. "What happened tonight, Rafa?"

And Rafael did. He told her everything that happened earlier. The threats, how he felt about everything going on. How ashamed and disgusted with himself he was. Once the floodgates opened, he couldn't stop the words that seemed to just roll off his tongue, or the tears that were visibly running down his face, despite his best efforts not to cry.

"Thanks for trusting me, Rafa," she said, squeezing his hand.

He just nodded, not knowing what else to say as he wiped the tears away and picked up his phone which was now ringing. "It's my mother," he said softly.

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Take it. I'll be here when you're done."

He nodded, answering the call and walking the kitchen to take the call. His mother checked in on him, rambling a bit, and by the end of the conversation, it had been agreed that she'd go to Florida to stay with her sister for a while, as they had relatives living in Miami and Hialeah.

"Llámame cuando llegues," he said, relief evident in his voice, "y también te quiero, Mami." It felt like a huge weight was lifted off Rafael's shoulders when that had been decided. His mother would be ok. She would be far away from Nevada Ramírez's reach. She would be safe. "Saluda al resto de la familia en mi nombre." (Call me when you land, and I love you too, Mami. Say hi to the rest of the family for me.)

Hanging up the phone, he made his way back to the living room, taking a seat before looking directly at Benson. "Tell Novak not to dismiss the charges." Seeing the pride and love looking back at him in those chocolate brown eyes, hit Rafael in a way he hadn't expected, but he knew he'd made the right decision. With her in his corner, he'd be ok. Even if it was hard right now. "Get the son of a bitch."


	6. Of Defence Attorneys and Prosecutors

Rafael found himself on his knees in the bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet. When he finally got his stomach under control, he found he couldn't hold back the tears.

Emotions swirled with the ice water circling the cold metal drain as streaks of fire burned his cheeks. He clenched his fists, latching onto the anger that was so much easier to handle, all the while, not knowing whether to be mad or to give up hope altogether. He could still hear Benson and Novak going off on Roger Kressler as he left and see the smug look plastered on the defence attorney's face.

There'd been a meeting. Kressler was representing Nevada Ramírez and wanted, naturally, to cut a deal. They wanted to plead it down to one count of sexual misconduct for the other day, claiming that the initial encounter that started this all had been a misunderstanding. Consensual rough sex. They wanted a misdemeanour. A fucking misdemeanour for everything he'd done.

Rafael's stance had been made crystal clear and the deal hadn't been taken, Novak refusing to go against Rafael's wishes for such an offensive plea. It hadn't stopped Kressler from throwing his sexuality and what Rafael had done in court with Adam Cain all those years back in his face.

Rafael was bisexual and had known it since college. His mother hadn't handled it well at first and his father was, his father. Coming out in his late twenties hadn't gone well for him, and he'd been told to go to therapy.

Since then, Rafael kept it rather need-to-know, all these years later, although it was one of the worse kept secrets given passive-aggressive comments seemed to follow him, ' _Spanish Dandy'_ being his personal favourite, considering Rafael made zero attempt to hide his interest in fashion. Benson had known for sure for a few years now and hadn't been all that surprised. He'd commented that during the Jeremy Jones case she'd clearly wondered if he was homophobic. She'd just rolled her eyes, and commented that she'd been proven wrong rather quickly during that case and had gotten to know him a lot better since then. The rest of the squad had found out sometime later, thanks to a little incident when they all had a night out.

_"As if that has anything to do with anything," Rafael sneered._

_"Do you think anyone will believe what you're spewing?" the defence attorney retorted. "Trust me, the jury's going to believe you like it rough. Your illustrious career speaks for itself, but you know how these things go. Nothing worse than a he-said-he-said. You'll be laughed out of court. So let's just clear up this big misunderstanding already, why don't we?"_

_Trujillo looked at Rafael, an oddly relaxed, self-satisfied, air about him. "Mira, you should think long and hard about whether you want the jury to know just how easy you are, Rafael, because,_ te lo aseguro _, I plan on being very clear about that." The man leaned forward slightly. "I'd seriously consider the situation if I were you."_

 _"Can it,_ _Nevada!" Kressler said. The defence attorney turned to Rafael. "But as he was saying, don't bring gay sex-games into the courtroom. It'll be embarrassing for you."_

 _Counsellor Novak moved to speak, but Rafael got his metaphorical punch in first. "No," Rafael sneered, cutting the man off. "If your first instinct is to browbeat me and wax poetic about my sexuality and the probable upset to my career, I'll say this much in reply. Is that really all you've got?" He looked at the defence attorney, disdain written on his face. "We're done talking." With that,_ _Rafael grabbed his jacket, quickly leaving the room, ignoring the murmuring behind him as he slammed the door._

As a fresh wave of fury crashed through him at the memory, he was silently screaming, suffocating with each breath he took, trying to hold onto at least a modicum of his pride.

Then, without realizing what he was doing, he raised his hand, only coming back to his senses when he heard the crack, watching as the mirror shattered into a thousand pieces, glass falling into the sink below. ' _It doesn't matter. Maybe I should just take the fucking deal. At least it would guarantee the arrogant scumbag_ _would serve some time for this.'_ For all of Rafael's posturing, he knew Nevada Ramírez had a very likely chance of getting away with this. The other two men who were brought in - from his initial attack - were only marginally easier. They needed even just one of them to take a deal, to turn on their boss, but with the power Trujillo wielded in his circle, it wasn't likely to happen.

Still, his case was the stuff of local news. The high-profile nature of the victim and perpetrator quickly earned Rafael a turn in the more established works. _The Times_ of all things had actually picked the story up.

He'd expected the news to have a field day and wasn't disappointed. However, he hated the looks he was getting when out and about in the city. It didn't take much for people to recognize him, and many of the reporters had been familiar with him for several years now. Grandstanding was a particular talent of Rafael's.

Shaking his head, pulling himself out of his musings, he used his hands to clean up the glass, accidentally cutting his palm. He watched with an odd sort of fascination as his hand bled, feeling vaguely surprised at how it felt. It seemed to ease the pressure inside of him some, which he needed. Badly. He hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to manage to get through the next few weeks, never mind the seven years of bad luck that the NYPD's damn broken mirror promised him.

He was stressed out and just wanted this mess over with. He'd been off work for long enough now that he was growing restless, having little to do to keep him out of his head.

He knew it was stupid, but he _did_ blame himself. He was a sex crimes prosecutor. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. And how was he supposed to go back to work after the trial? He sighed. At least Aaron Householder had gotten probation. He'd been kept in the loop on most of his cases, all of which had been split between a few other ADAs. Rafael had argued with McCoy, pushing for some compassion for the hurting father.

Rafael kept in touch with them actually, particularly Maggie, who was feeling rather relieved that a Guardian Ad Litem had finally been appointed for the case. It had certainly taken long enough, and Drew was only getting worse if that was possible.

The news of the appointment had to count for something, and Eddie did his best to keep Rafael out of his head as well. It had taken a long time after Alejandro's little October surprise, but the pair had eventually rebuilt most of their friendship. It had been awkward at first, but any discomfort got thrown out of the way when Eddie stepped up to help Rafael the way he had so many times over the years. The squad did their best as well, but they were also the ones in charge of his case, thus requiring him to go over every little detail of his assaults over and over again.

He heard a door open and close behind him. "You alright, man?"

Rafael turned around and gave Fin a pointed look. "Oh, absolutely fantastic, Sergeant. I love dealing with morons."

The other man sighed. "Come on, man. Let's get you outta here. And between you and me, don't let Ramírez get to you. That son of a bitch ain't worth your time." He gestured to the mess by and in the sink. "I'll get someone else to clean that up."

"Let's just get out of here," he said, not waiting for the other man before he walked out of the door, fully intending to leave the precinct and have a glass of scotch.

He was vaguely aware of Fin whispering something to the lieutenant - and then the others - but couldn't be bothered to care. Carisi left Rollins, however, deliberately quickening his stride to catch up with Rafael. "Counsellor, walk you out?"

He looked at the blond detective. "Something you need to say?"

Carisi gave him one of his cheesy smiles. "No." Rafael could see a slight hint of the lie playing on the man's face but decided to humour him some. "I'm just heading out for a bite to eat, and was just wondering if you wanted to come with."

Rafael knew he'd lost some weight and hadn't been eating well, lately. He assumed that it had not gone unnoticed. He gave Carisi a half-smile. "Do I have a choice?"

Carisi's smile didn't waver in the slightest. "Come on, Rafael. Lunch is on me, and you can even pick the place."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Lead the way, Staten Island."


	7. Taking the Stand

The next few days were rough, but nothing prepared Rafael for the sheer anxiety he woke up with on February 6 knowing that he had to be in court for his own trial in just a few short hours.

People were already starting to make up their minds about the case, and as hard as he tried to ignore the comments, they were getting to him. 

He showered, shaved, threw on one of his plainer suits, and tried to force himself to eat something despite the nausea. He knew it would only get worse if he didn't get any water or food in his system, and he hadn't exactly been eating healthily as it was, not having much of an appetite to speak of.

He knew that everyone was getting worried, and Benson had tried more than once to get him to go see a therapist, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to be alone in a room with a stranger he never met and talk about what happened. He had to talk about it enough as it was.

He'd wanted things to move faster when jury selection felt like it was taking forever, but now he just wanted more time before he had to finally take the stand.

Everyone was there, offering moral support quickly, but most were unable to watch the trial, simply needing to wait in the courthouse until Novak called them to finally take the stand themselves.

"Counsellor, don't mess this up," Eddie said, turning to Novak.

"I'd like to say the same thing," Fin chimed in. "This one doesn't walk."

She nodded. "Remember why we're here. Ramírez manipulates. Don't take the bait or give credence to any assertion of a vendetta by him."

They all nodded, his mother gently squeezing his hand, one of the few public signs of affection the rather reserved woman would allow herself.

Novak turned to Rafael, giving him a reassuring smile. "Remember what we talked about during prep. Don't imply anything was your fault."

He nodded, not trusting his voice, only speaking when Rita Calhoun, Dworkin and the D.A himself appeared, a ghost of a smile on his face at hearing Calhoun calling Ramírez some rather lovely names. They'd known each other since law school and worked together for a time before Rita left prosecuting to work for the defence.

They were definitely friends of a sort, although they definitely had a more-than-a-decade-old rivalry going on. Calhoun was one of the few defence attorneys to be able to consistently challenge Rafael, and they both thrived on it.

"I have to admit," Dworkin said, "I thought my surprise quotient was filled for the year when McAdoo benched Manning. But this, I gotta tell you, on the all-time scale is up there between Bucky Dent and Charlie Rose."

He shook his head, amused in spite of himself, and he definitely heard Benson mumble "Clown" under her breath. "Do you actually hear the things you say or do you like to be as surprised as the rest of us?" Rafael deadpanned.

Dworkin didn't tale offence in the slightest. "It's the little things in life, Barba."

Rafael entered the courtroom in a bit of a haze, only taking a seat when Novak gave him a gentle nudge, snapping him back to the present.

She gave him a sad smile. "The worst parts almost over, Rafael. Just get through this."

He gave a curt nod before taking a shaky breath.

As the court proceedings finally started, Rafael tried to focus on what was going on and being said a mere few feet away from him. Feeling vaguely comforted by the fact that Eddie was nearby.

"Mr. Ramírez is a man who has much," Novak said. "A beautiful wife, a brother-in-law that he himself professes a closeness with, and billions of dollars. He came to this country for economic opportunity. And agree with his unorthodox methods or not, he found it. Mr. Ramírez, the defendant in this case, has much. And yet, it wasn't enough." She gestured vaguely as she said that. "You will learn over the course of this trial that Nevada Ramírez simply takes what he wants. He took what he wanted not once but twice from a man who offended him simply by doing his job. He victimized a man who has only ever fought to do the right thing and has worked for the District Attorney's Office for over twenty years. Someone he only had fleeting interactions with. Even going so far as to get others involved. Over the course of this trial, you will hear from the man and you will see what this defendant took. You're going to hear how the defendant stalked and followed a man, threatened him, forced him into a car at knifepoint and proceeded to lead a brutal gang rape. And when the victim dared tell the truth about the events, he tried to silence Mr. Barba, pulling him to an alleyway and raping him again." Rafael took a shaky breath, trying to focus on something, anything, in front of him to detract him from his thoughts. "It wasn't enough for Mr. Ramírez to have all that he did," Novak continued. "Instead, he had to take repeatedly from someone else. We simply cannot condone this behaviour. Mr. Ramírez _must_ be held accountable for his actions." There was a calculated pause before she moved to take her seat. "Thank you."

He still struggled to push down the anxiety he was feeling, and by the time he steadied his breathing and refocused properly, he'd missed most of the defence's opening statement. Not that anything was said that he remotely wanted to hear.

Finally, he was called to the stand.

"How do you know the defendant?"

"We crossed paths professionally when I was working for the Kings County D.A's office and again when I was recently brought in as co-counsel on a case," he explained.

She nodded. "And how long have you been an A.D.A?"

"I've worked in the D.A's office for 21 years."

Another nod for the jury's benefit. "Mr. Barba," Novak said, "is it fair to say that you spent your entire professional life practicing law?"

"Yes."

"Enforcing the law?"

"That's correct."

"Admirable," she said. "Can you please walk me through the initial encounter?"

"I left my apartment shortly after 10 o'clock intending to go to a nearby bodega before it closed for the night," he explained. "I was almost there when I realized that I was being followed by a black Escalade. I immediately took out my phone to call for help, but before I had the chance the phone was knocked out of my hand and a gun was pressed to my side."

"Did the attacker say anything to you?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "He spoke in Spanish, telling me not to be stupid as he pushed the gun into my side."

"What happened next?"

Rafael took a shaky breath. "I asked him what he wanted and he started manhandling me, trying to get me to face him. Once we were face to face he started feeling me up. I quickly tried to push him off and told him to leave me alone."

"How did he respond?"

"He slapped me," Rafael stated simply. "At that point, his two friends were getting out of the car and the defendant taunted me before forcing me to get inside the vehicle. He'd threatened my mother to get me to cooperate."

"What happened after you got inside the car?"

It was taking everything Rafael had to keep his composure. "I was forced into the back where the seats were already folded down to allow for room. My clothes were taken off, and I... I was forced to perform oral on Mr. Ramírez. He was rough, so it felt like being choked. He then forced me onto my stomach and he so..sodomized me. The other two men just laughed while they watched."

"What happened next?"

Another shaky breath. "After he finally got off me, Mr. Ramírez turned to Carlos Hernandez and told him he could have a turn if he wanted, and David Nuñez after him. Neither declined, although Mr. Nuñez hesitated before Mr. Ramírez convinced him to continue going along with what was happening."

"Objection!" Kressler said. "Speculation."

Judge Blake raised an eyebrow. "Overruled."

Clearly feeling pleased, Novak had him continue.

"Mr. Ramírez eventually let me go and I went straight home," Rafael said. "I contacted SVU first thing the following morning."

And on and on it went. He walked through the details of the later attack, which was little easier than discussing the previous one.

Cross-examination was horrible, and Kressler did everything he could to paint Rafael as a rather promiscuous drunk, throwing his delayed report of the second assault in his face. Predictably.

They were dismissed for lunch, but Rafael still wasn't particularly in the mood for food, despite everyone trying to get him to eat.

"You really need to eat, Rafa," Benson said.

"She's right, Rafi!" his mother said. "You've already lost so much weight."

Both Carisi and Eddie shook their heads, not knowing how to win a fight with either of the stubborn Barbas.

It wasn't long, however, before he was back in the courtroom. He watched as the SANE nurse was called, photos from his rape kit being shown. Benson was then called to the stand, Fin, Rafael's mother, the taxi driver who had dropped him off at the precinct after the initial attack and his former protective-detail following suit.

He didn't get much sleep that night.

Court the next day wasn't any better than the first. He had to sit there, listening to the oh so lovely story that Trujillo and Kressler were painting of him.

Nevada Ramírez was just misunderstood, and Rafael had been a completely willing participant who was not only under the influence but had issues with his sexuality and snapped when Ramírez made it clear he wasn't looking for something serious. With how bad it looked for Rafael to have been fraternizing with a witness and how angry he'd been at getting brushed off, it was only natural he'd panic and make a false report.

The Adam Cain case had been brought up, as expected, and Trujillo alleged that he regretted giving into Rafael's request for hard and fast sex.

Rafael was trembling for most of it, trying to get himself under control while he listened to the disgusting lies. It was humiliating, and he couldn't do anything to defend himself. He just had to sit there and listen to it.

Novak had raised a couple of objections on his behalf, but still.

The rest of the defence's witness testimony didn't make him feel much better, but the stubborn or rather semi-optimistic part of him that was still working as a prosecutor could see that a fair chunk of the jury was on Rafael's side rather than not. Trujillo's reputation preceded him, which wasn't necessarily a good thing for the man. He relied heavily on paying people off, and that wasn't going as well as the man might have hoped it would.

Still, Rafael wanted the day to be over already. He'd never wanted out of a godforsaken courtroom so badly in his entire life.

Novak was able to undo some of the damage from the cross with a redirect, and finally, closing arguments were done and they were dismissed for jury deliberations.

He headed back to his apartment, stopping by a bodega for a snack and opting to grab a bottle of scotch. He'd then gone home and looked around at the disorder in his apartment. He switched over the load of laundry he was doing and then poured himself a glass of the newly acquired scotch. He had a couple of sips of it and set to packing his things. No matter what the verdict was, he wouldn't be staying here. He couldn't. He didn't feel safe. He just didn't.

He'd already given his landlord his notice and packed up over half his apartment. Not that he'd told anybody, save Eddie, though, who had helped with most of the packing. Eddie hadn't asked many questions about his rather abrupt decision, just helping Rafael do what he felt he needed to do for his own sanity.

Rafael shook his head, pulling himself out of his musings. This place had been home for quite a while now, and he _would_ miss it. He didn't regret his choice, though.

He took another gulp of scotch, before getting back to the task at hand.

At least this was something to do while he waited for the verdict to finally come through because if he didn't keep himself busy he was fairly certain that the waiting was going to kill him.


	8. Time for Deliberations

The three days of jury deliberations were horrible. Rafael felt so on edge and was losing more hope every time the jury popped out to say that they were deadlocked.

He knew he'd drank more than he should've, but couldn't find himself to care at the moment. People tried to distract him and encourage him, but it didn't help any, so he finished packing the last bit of his apartment, looked for another one to move into, drank, and went with rather less sleep than he no doubt needed.

He groaned when he was called to court once more, sure that the jury was just going to say that they'd been unable to reach a decision yet again.

With the actual trial over, everyone was able to be in the courtroom with him, which, although he wouldn't admit it aloud, was a major source of relief, as he didn't want to be alone if a not guilty verdict was found. That was something that Rafael felt was looking more and more likely. And if not that, a mistrial, which he didn't think he'd be able to handle either. If that was the case, he knew he wouldn't be bringing charges against Ramírez again. He simply wouldn't.

It was stupid, given he knew juries had deliberated for much longer in the past and it didn't _necessarily_ mean anything, but it was hard to be optimistic when he wasn't the most optimistic person to begin with.

Still, regardless of what the verdict ended up being, he wanted to know already. At least then he'd have something tangible to deal with instead of simply not knowing. It was the uncertainty of it all that he hated.

The same as every other time, Novak walked Rafael into the courtroom where he took his seat and waited for the actual proceedings to start.

"Will the defendant please rise?"

Rafael watched as Trujillo did so, the man looking fairly confident that things were going to go his way. That was little comfort to Rafael, who was trying to stop himself from shaking. He hated having to be in the same room as that bastard.

He figured that part of it was fake bravado, but another, more traitorous, part of him was telling Rafael that the man actually believed he was going to get away with the hell he'd put Rafael through.

Judge Blake looked over at the jury. "Have you reached a verdict?"

The spokeswoman, a woman with red curly hair, stood up. "Yes, we have, Your Honour." A wave of mixed anxiety and relief hit Rafael at hearing that. This was finally going to end. "On the two counts of rape in the first degree, we find the defendant, Nevada Ramírez guilty."

Rafael couldn't believe what he was hearing. His breath hitched. "Did they -?"

His mother squeezed his shoulder. "They did. Guilty."

More overwhelmed than he'd like to admit, he tried to focus on what else was being said, as the spokeswoman was still speaking. "On the sole count of sexual abuse of the first degree, we find the defendant guilty."

The judge nodded. "Members of the jury, you are excused. The court thanks you for your service." The judge looked at Trujillo, who looked a strange mix of pissed off and afraid. A strange sight. "Nevada Ramírez, you are remanded to Rikers where you will await sentencing."

"Well done," Novak said softly, turning to face Rafael. "You held your own despite the pressure." He gave her a half-hearted smile, listening as she continued to speak. "I'll request the maximum."

He nodded and murmured a "Thank you.”

Rafael got up, still in a state of disbelief, but perilously close to tears. He looked at Benson, who walked up and pulled him into a hug he so desperately needed at that moment. He flinched ever so slightly, but quickly melted into it, taking in the comfort that was being offered.

His mother finally made her way over to him. "Vamos a llevarte a casa, hijo mío." (Let's get you home, son of mine.)

He nodded, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He didn't want to go home with her just yet. He needed a moment away from everything. From everyone. He felt like he was holding on by a rather thin thread. " ¿Podrías darme un minuto, Mami?" (Could you just give me a minute, Mami?)

His mother seemed to consider it. "Claro que sí. Meet me at the car."

He nodded, walking past everyone and straight out of the courtroom. He didn't know where he was walking exactly but soon found himself at a very empty stairwell. He sat down, and leaned his head against the railing, unable to hold back the sobs that escaped as he completely broke down.

He eventually pulled himself together and started walking towards where he had to meet his mother, realizing that Olivia was standing mere feet away from the stairwell he was at.

"It does get better," she said softly, offering to walk him outside, which he accepted without hesitation.

He went home, made himself some dinner and watched TV, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

Eventually, he was contacted by Novak who had cut deals with the other individuals involved in the assaults. Once Trujillo's verdict came down, they all started turning on themselves, realizing it was their only shot at any sort of leniency. He'd agreed to all the deals, not wanting to deal with more trials and court dates.

That done, he'd grabbed a glass of scotch and sat back down in front of the TV, trying to relax, which didn't come particularly easy. Shaking his head, he went and printed off a set of papers that he never thought he'd have need of in a million years.

Then, without hesitating, he grabbed some boxes and left for the D.A's Office to start packing up his office. It felt strange, packing the office up after so many years there, but he genuinely felt he had to. He had no idea how he _could_ possibly stay.

"You do realize half my job is stopping people who work here from doing something stupid?" Jack McCoy said, the comment more a statement than an actual question. He waved the resignation papers slightly to make it clear what he was referring to.

"Well, now you have one less person to worry about," he said, placing the book that was in his hand in the box and turning to face his now-former boss.

"You don't have to do this, Rafael."

"I know," he replied softly.

"What're you gonna do?"

"Would it be unbearably corny if I said, 'I'm going to do what I must?'" he said, referencing something that Ben Stone, a former colleague of theirs, was well known for saying: _A man shouldn't do what he can. He should do what he must, without regard for consequence or repercussion._

"Yes, it would," McCoy said. "But I understand." He gave him a pointed look. “If you ever change your mind, there’s alway a spot here for you, Rafael.”

”I appreciate that, Jack.” He took a shaky breath and shook the other man's hand. He then went back to packing, letting the District Attorney find his own way out.

Rafael still had one hard conversation a head of him.

"You know, when we first started working together," he said, glancing at Benson. "What was it, five years ago?"

"Six," Benson replied instantly. The pair were chatting outside the courthouse, and she had no idea why he asked to meet her.

He exhaled deeply. "The world was an old movie. It was all black and white. And it was High Noon. I was Gary Cooper." Benson gave a tense chuckle. "I was absolutely sure... absolutely... who were the good guys, who were the bad guys. And then you... You started to weasel your way into my world, and the black and white became different shades of grey." She opened her mouth to speak. He gave her a small smile. "Don't say it." He chuckled slightly. "Before I knew it, there were blues and greens and yellows and reds." He looked at her, willing every ounce of the affection he felt for her to show through. "I'm you now, Liv." He smiled more earnestly now. The woman in front of him was absolutely incredible, in more ways than one. "You opened my heart." He nodded his head slightly as he continued. "And I thank you for it."

She looked shocked and yet expectant. There was hope dancing around in her eyes as well. Hope for what, he wasn't completely certain. "And?"

He tried not to cry as he said the words, he hated himself for saying. He didn't want to do to her what Stabler did. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do, and he knew there was no way around it given what he was saying. He wanted to tell her he loved her but knew if he said the words he'd never be able to go through with what he was planning on doing. Instead, he said, "I've got to move on."

He stepped forward, kissing her on the forehead, trying to place all the affection he had for her in it. To comfort her somehow. He pushed that aside, and taking a deep breath, he turned around and started walking away. Walking away from everything he'd fought to build these last two decades while trying to ignore the fact that his best friend was crying because of him, tears streaming freely down his own face as well, each step like a knife to the heart.

Sometimes it was best to just walk away, count your losses, to say a prayer and go on with your life. Maybe, just maybe, if he told himself that enough times he'd actually start to believe it.


	9. At a Crossroads

He stopped dead in his tracks, feeling Benson’s hand on his right shoulder. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't just going to let him walk away. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned around to face her. "Rafa-"

He struggling to meet her eyes. He really didn't want to have this conversation. He'd said what needed to be said and he wanted to go and just put the entire mess behind him. Why couldn't she just respect his choice?

He knew she'd want him to stay and there was admittedly a part of him that didn't want to leave. But, how could he stay after everything that had recently happened? Everyone in the D.A's Office knew what happened to him, what he'd let happen, and he didn't know how he could face everyone again.

As much as he appreciated Benson and the squad being there for him, the dynamic had very clearly shifted, and he was honestly dreading the way he'd be looked at the first few cases back at work by them. Like he couldn't handle it. Like he was a ticking time bomb that they were just waiting to go off.

As for the D.A's Office, he already knew there were a few people that questioned Rafael's story. Kressler wasn't the only one. Lionel Granger, Carolyn Maddox, Matthew Braden, they all thought Rafael was lying. Jo Marlowe believed him, but had questioned Rafael's ability to do his job after the trauma, his ability to compartmentalize. Nick Potter had quickly made it clear he agreed with her assessment. Marlowe had meant well, he knew, but still...

If he did stay at the D.A's Office, he'd have a lot of people to prove himself to. It would be an uphill battle and it wasn't a battle that he was sure was worth the fight any longer. He just _wasn't._

He loved the job, he really did, but sometimes... He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the conversation that was taking place. His voice broke slightly when he said her name. "Liv."

"Rafael, you don't have to leave," she said. "If you need to take time off, take some time, but now is not the time to be making rash decisions."

He shook his head, smiling sadly. "There's nothing left for me to say, Liv."

"Ok," she said. "Then just listen." He nodded, nonverbally telling her to go ahead and talk. "It's not just the disbelief. You're afraid of walking back into the squad room or your office... or court... and having everybody look at you and wonder if you're okay. That sound about right?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"You know," she commented, "what I've seen is that people who have gone through unfair, horrific, experiences, is that they have this will. And when they get support, a chance, they cannot only survive, they can thrive." She made him make eye contact with her. "Don't give him any more power over you, Rafa. Will it be hard initially? Yes. But, you _can_ get past this. And trust me, none of the squad thinks any less of you."

"And what if I said I don't think I can?"

"Get passed this?" She squeezed his hand. "I'd say that you're stronger than you think. I'd say that no one can tell you who you are and what you are made of, only you yourself know what you are made of, and only you yourself can do the work to become who you want to be." She gave him a pointed look, aware of the comments being made about him. "To not let obnoxious people like Kressler and Maddox decide for you."

He shook his head. "Maybe they're right."

"Rafa-"

" _I_ stopped fighting," he said through gritted teeth. " _I_ got drunk. _I_ got in that car, Liv. _I_ left that bathroom stall." He knew it was stupid, but more often than not that was running through his mind. He should've, could've fought harder.

"Don't blame yourself," she said. "You did what you had to do to survive. Nothing more, nothing less. You won, Rafa. It's over." She sighed. "And I get it, I really do. The hardest part is not beating yourself up every day for getting into that situation, but that's a feeling. Not a fact." He licked his lips, just listening. "During everything with Lewis my therapist told me it can help to change your daily routine," she continued. "If you take the bus, then walk. If you usually read, you know, go to a movie. Do things that make you happy. If you focus on the good in life and on the positive things, then it can... It can shake the negative emotions and patterns away."

"And that worked for you?"

"Some days more than others, but yes," she said with a slight nod. "It's a process, Rafa. Little steps. They add up."

He gave a stiff nod of the head. "If you say so."

"Don't make drastic decisions right now," she said, giving him a sad smile. "A lot can change in a manner of weeks or months. Get through the next few weeks and then see how you feel then with some distance and space to breathe."

He sighed. "Liv -"

She gave him a rather pointed look. "If, after some time to recuperate, you still want to walk away, I'll support you leaving your post," she assured him. "I just don't want you doing something you'll come to regret."

He gave her a half-hearted smile. "Ok."

"But," she said, "don't you think you get to move on from me for one second. You're my best friend, Rafa. We stopped being more than colleagues a long time ago."

He sighed, but a smile that could only be described as bittersweet quickly formed on his lips. "I won't argue with you there."

"Good," she quipped, "and there's more to you than the job and expensive suits." A teasing lilt entered her voice towards the end, but she looked at him quite earnestly. "You're still my friend, Rafael. You're still the man that Noah looks up to. His Uncle Rafa. That hasn't changed."

Rafael gulped. "I'll talk to McCoy about taking a month or so off and returning to work with a slightly lighter caseload. At least initially."

"Great." At that, she pulled him into a hug. "You don't need anybody to hold your hand, I know, but I'm right here in your corner. Always."

He nodded, swallowing another lump in his throat. "I know." He did know, and that's why he trusted her more than almost anyone. Why he'd slowly fallen for her.

She looked at him searchingly. "So, you okay?"

"Yes," he lied easily. He looked at her, fighting an internal battle over how much to open up to her. It was hard, as he'd never been Mr. Chatty. He'd been forced into being more open due to recent circumstances, but it still unsettled him in a strange way. He wanted to, but just couldn't seem to get his tongue to work. It felt physically hard to open his mouth and make the words that needed to be said come out. He couldn't eat or sleep. He didn't want any more of this try, try again, stuff. He just wanted out. He'd had it. He was so tired, and so angry and scared.

She looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Honestly, Liv. I'm fine." He kissed her on the forehead again. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She nodded, giving him a cheeky smile. "You better, Barba."

He snorted, and left her with a sarcastic reply.

Once home, he poured himself a glass of scotch, and took a seat on his couch. He didn't bother turning on the television. He could hardly sit still. He keep fidgeting, crossing one leg and then the other.

Eventually, he slammed his glass down a little too hard, shattering it.

Not even able to find the energy to clean the debris up, he just rested his face against his knees, feet planted flat on the hardwood floor.

His noisy sobs echoed through the empty apartment.


	10. Of Home and Miami

When he finally pulled himself together, he called McCoy. The conversation with the D.A went fine, but it was a relief to be off the phone. He'd, thankfully, agreed to give Rafael some time off before he returned, understanding that Rafael really needed the time to find his footing again. He hadn't wanted Rafael to resign in the first place and hadn't yet processed the paperwork.

Rafael had found a new apartment, and, as it was empty, he'd been given the keys almost immediately. He'd moved everything into it and then left for Miami the next day for a few weeks, staying with some relatives down there from the Díaz side of the family. Unlike Rafael, his mother was not an only child.

A month in the warm Miami sun had done him a world of good. It might have been early February, but Miami was having highs of 76 to 80 degrees. Completely different from a New York City winter, by all counts.

He'd spent most of the first week drinking more than he should've, he knew, but his aunt and uncle had eventually managed to pull him out of his head enough that he'd actually begun to relax slightly for the first time in a long time. They didn't know much of what had happened, just that Rafael had been attacked. The nightmares were still too frequent for his preference but were a bit less perennial than they had been.

When he wasn't relaxing at his tía and tío's house in Kendall, or hanging out in Calle Ocho with his cousins Javier, Ruben, and Ana, he was spending a fair amount of time at the beach and doing some of the more touristy things, just because he could and it was something to do. Something to keep him busy.

Javier had also taken to dragging Rafael to the gym to box, as Rafael had found himself rather irritable and acting more aggressive than he'd like. His uncle had recommended it after one of Rafael's more impressive outbursts. Rafael had started wearing his glasses more but made sure to wear his contacts at the gym. He learned that the hard way the first time, when Javi had punched Rafael square on the nose, almost breaking them.

He'd actually been torn about returning to the city when it was time to. He didn't want to go back to the looks and comments and all those little reminders.

He'd known that things weren't going to be easy, but that didn't help when it came to having to face everything again.

He still had a couple of days off after his return to the city before he was expected to return to work again, so he finished unpacking, did a little cleaning, and bought some, rather necessary, groceries.

He tried to get out as much as possible. He grabbed lunch with Eddie, visited his mother, went out for a run, small things. Carisi came over once to cook and discuss some random law theory of his, in addition to complaining about the inept ADA that was filling in for Rafael. That was the general consensus from the SVU squad. His replacement - who McCoy had temporarily stolen from Queens - didn't seem to care about the cases or want put much effort in at all. They wanted all slam dunks. Nothing that would ruin their political chances or get them out of the judges' good books. More than a little political, and not always realistic if your primary goal was justice. Hence, the immediate clash.

Rafael had little to no interesting in going out and doing anything but tried to make himself do it nonetheless, and when he couldn't be bothered, someone seemed to drag him out themselves. He appreciated it, even if he wouldn't admit it. He didn't want to get stuck in a rut again, but it was hard to keep his head above water.

When that Monday finally came, it was with a noticeable sense of trepidation. He pushed it aside, forced himself to get out of bed and shower, and then sat down for some Café con Leche and tostadas for breakfast, knowing he needed to eat, even if he didn't particularly feel like it.

He through his dishes into the dishwasher, and then made his way back to his bedroom, starting to rummage through his closet. After a few minutes, he settled on a plain white dress shirt, plain black dress pants, black suspenders, and matching suit jacket and pair of dress shoes. He then picked out a pair of purple socks and picked a lilac tie and a matching pocket square to complete the set.

Walking over to the bathroom mirror, he gave himself a once over, fixing his, slightly greying, hair. Satisfied that he looked presentable enough, he grabbed his briefcase and headed to the D.A's Office.

His assistant, Carmen, got his attention immediately when he walked in, and they discussed his schedule and made sure he was caught up on the goings-on of when he was gone so that he wouldn't be caught off guard.

"It's good to have you back," she said, giving him a warm smile.

He just gave her a half-hearted smile, not trusting his voice.

Several other ADAs tried to talk to him, but Carmen helped him get an out and he managed to finally escape to his office. Thankfully. He didn't want to deal with a bunch of people right now.

He had the next forty-five minutes to himself. No colleagues popping in, no phone calls coming in, and no emails to respond to.

It was enough time to get most of the essential unpacking done, allowing him to sort through and take out the law books he needed.

He had a brief work call to deal with, and then, pouring himself another cup of coffee, he sat down to take a look at the caseload he was being handed. They had some poor babyfaced ADA doing ECAB shifts. It stood for Early Case Assessment Bureau, but Rafael just called it the complaint room.

The ADA on early case assessment would catch every case that came in for an 8-hour shift. It was triage and every case was theirs, all the way to arraignment. Then it would get passed off to other ADAs who would take over as lead prosecutor.

It could be and often _was_ the first stop for new Assistant District Attorneys, used as an introduction to prosecution.

Rafael himself had done his fair share of ECAB shifts and didn't miss it one bit. It was like the third ring of hell. It was hectic. The volume of work was large. You also deal by phone and fax instead of by person. All of which can lead to errors, complicating matters.

Rafael now had three felony sexual assaults and a domestic violence case that had all come in during the prior few days.

He'd just managed to go over the files in time for the meeting with the junior ADA, which had allowed him to get some clarification on some of the finer details of the cases, given how out of the loop he had been. He was aware that not everything was always in the reports, and the details mattered. Still, looking at the photos that were in with some of the discovery materials made Rafael want to vomit, bringing back memories of his own rape-kit.

After that, he had a meeting with opposing counsel, Buchanan, on his domestic violence case regarding a plea bargain agreement. He'd asked for some time to consider, contacted the witness, and ended up giving a counter offer within the hour as the witness was anything but cooperative and just wanted it over with. Buchanan had accepted in the end, so that was one mess over and done with.

He'd then gotten kicked out for lunch by Carmen, so he went to grab a sandwich for lunch, and went back to his office to eat while looking over his emails and making several phone calls.

By two o'clock, he was meeting with the primary witness for one of the sexual assault cases that had gone through arraignment just this past Friday.

He'd then spent the next half-an-hour talking to the responding officers on the aforementioned on-campus rape, dotting his I's and crossing his T's. He'd be calling one of the officers to the stand as an outcry witness by the look of things.

It was definitely more 'he said, she said' than not, seeming like a run-of-the-mill date rape case, if there was a thing. She seemed rather credible, however, a straight-a university student with no major behavioural issues, and seemed more than willing to go against her ex-boyfriend. He just hoped there would be no surprises.

With the officers gone, he'd poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat back down at his desk. He threw his face in his hands, exhausted. He wanted the day to be over with already.

Pulling himself together, he registered that his cell phone was ringing, and answered it immediately when he saw McCoy's name appear on the screen. "Hello. Rafael Barba speaking."

The conversation wasn't initially unpleasant, but he quickly found himself hounded by questions as he tried to catch the D.A up on the day's events.

He was writing an e-mail on his laptop when he heard knocking on his door. He looked up, watching as Olivia Benson waltzed right in, not waiting for a response. They'd texted briefly about the reason she was stopping by. "How was your vacation?"

He closed his laptop, looking back towards her. "And you are very polite." He gave her a pointed look. "It was good, however."

She smiled. "Well, it certainly looks like the sun agreed with you, Counsellor."

He smiled, knowing he'd definitely gotten some colour, along with gaining most of the weight he'd previously lost back. He'd never been this tanned in his life. "You'll get no arguments from me." She walked up to him, passing him a small brown gift bag. He took it, but kept his eyes on her. "You shouldn't have." He opened the gift, finding it was a box of his favourite chocolates. A small amused grin formed on his lips. The brunette was one of the only people who knew that about him. He had a soft spot for certain treats.

She threw both hands up, playfully. "It's the best I could do on short notice."

He smiled more fully now, placing the bag on his desk. "Thank you." He quickly moved to open the box, popping one into his mouth. "So, you have a perp who wants to make a deal?"

"Well, he's something else," the lieutenant said. "Mason Phelps, 28, lives in Gramercy Park. He was arrested after he allegedly used his hand to keep a person from breathing." Rafael fought to keep his face neutral, as images of a hand covering his mouth and a gun pushed into his side flashed through his mind in vivid colour. If Benson noticed the panic or slightly ashen look he had at that comment, she didn't show it. She merely waited a moment before continuing with her briefing. "We responded to a call at the residence shortly after 10 p.m. Upon arriving, Carisi and Rollins interviewed the victim who stated that he had been involved in a physical altercation with Phelps."

"Alright," he said. "Is he credible?"

She shook her head. "It looks that way." He gestured for her to continue. "During the incident he allegedly covered their mouth, restricting their breathing, and took their cell phone, keeping the victim from calling the police. The incident is also in violation of a standing order of protection."

He nodded. "That certainly helps." He popped another chocolate in his mouth and sat there thinking for a second. _'I can probably get first-degree criminal contempt, which is a class E felony. And that is alongside criminal obstruction of breathing, third-degree assault, and fourth-degree criminal mischief, which are all misdemeanours.'_ He held out the box, silently offering her a piece of chocolate.

She waved it off, not unkindly. "No."

He closed the box, placing it back on his desk. "Set up a meeting with the perp." He looked back up at her. "We'll see if we can't cut a deal."

She gave him a smile mixed with something he couldn't read. "Welcome back." Returning her smile, he watched as she walked out the door, undoubtedly heading back to the precinct.

Only two more hours. Two more hours until he was free to go home for the night. He could handle that. Only two more hours.


	11. Welcome Back!

The guilty verdict Rafael had been after finally came down, after only a few hours of jury deliberations, which surprised Rafael slightly, although he wasn't displeased. He had expected the jury to deliberate longer and been slightly anxious when the jury had come back so quickly.

Phelps' defence attorney, Sophie Devere, hadn't been cooperative and the deal that she'd offered had been, frankly, offensive. So, after giving her a counteroffer, which she declined, he told her he'd see them both in court.

Given some of the cases Rafael had taken in the past, it was hardly one of the more difficult ones. He'd won cases with less evidence. However, the case had kept him up for more than one night. The similarities to his own case were hard to ignore and he'd inevitably start thinking about one aspect and then it would snowball.

He'd been wanting the case to end since the moment it landed on his desk. He was tired of feeling miserable and the case just brought everything up. Again and again.

Still, he'd managed to remain largely professional and, by all accounts, handled the case relatively well. There had been a rocky minute or two, but he'd managed to keep it together for the most part and do his job.

A smug smile of satisfaction on his lips, he stood up, readjusting his tie before collecting his files and legal pads and tucking them away in his briefcase.

He was walking past her, and as though on instinct, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. "Nice work in there, Counsellor."

Rafael dipped his head in reply, the appreciative smile he has unmistakable. "Good jury." He chuckled. "The defendant irritating the judge didn't hurt either. Opposing counsel was very literally cringing at one point."

She stretched her hand out towards him. "Still, well done, Barba."

He took her hand, fingers closing over her palm, and gave her hand a brief shake. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

Their eyes were locked at she pulled her hand back, and he saw the slightest bit of _something_ in those chocolate brown eyes. Something that he wasn't sure what to do with. Especially right then. "Coffee?"

He nodded, relaxing marginally. "Lead the way."

They grabbed a coffee from a nearby café and started walking and talking about one of their other pending cases involving two teens that fell well withing the Romeo and Juliet exemption. A sixteen-year-old girl and her eighteen-year-old boyfriend.

The entire thing was consensual and they'd been dating for a long time prior to this incident, and the girl, Alison, was adamant it was consensual. It was a week before she turned seventeen. The parents were just overbearing and not fond of the boyfriend.

It was a mess, but they ended up offering a deal and, as Rafael was in court, Rita Calhoun had called Benson to let him now they were accepting the deal and to call her when he was able. She'd also left him a message, but Benson had needed to be informed regardless, and so received the call.

They'd caught up on a few other work-related things before Rafael headed back to his office, and her, to the precinct. He'd then spent the better part of the afternoon doing research and prepping for one of his felony sexual assault cases he'd gotten from the ECAB ADA that was going to trial in two days' time.

Eventually, Carmen had come in to say she was going home, and it was about a half-hour later when he followed suit, heading back to his own apartment.

He'd just started getting everything ready for dinner when his phone rang. Seeing his mother's name pop up, he didn't hesitate to answer. He was glad he had, given the completely frantic way she was speaking to him. "Mami, cálmate. No entendí nada de lo que acabas de decir. ¿Que pasó? Someone broke in?" (Mami, calm down. I didn't understand a thing you just said. What happened?)

"Yes," she replied tersely. "And don't tell me to be calm, Rafi. Acabo de llegar a casa del trabajo y descubrí que alguien ha estado en mi casa. I think I have every damn right to be upset." (I just got home from work and found out that someone has been in my house.)

"Lo sé, pero freaking out won't help at all," he said. "Ni siquiera un poquito. Did they take anything? Was it a robbery?" (I know, but freaking out won't help at all. Not even a little bit)

"I wouldn't be freaking out if I thought it was a robbery," she retorted. "That's what's so strange. No tomaron nada. Nothing. Encontré un reloj que pensé que estaba perdido, pero..." (They didn't take anything. I found a watch I thought was lost, but...)

Well, that was eerie. Someone wanted to make it clear they were in her home but hadn't taken anything. They were there for her. He sighed, moving to grab his jacket and keys. "Bueno, lock all the doors. I'm on my way." He quickly texted Fin, asking the man to come to get him. He'd gotten a response immediately, thankfully. "Llama a la policía y repórtalo. Y tal vez deberías quedarte conmigo o con una amiga esta noche. (Call the cops and report it. And maybe you should stay with me or a friend tonight.)

"I'm not running, Rafi," she said, "pero I'll call the cops right now."

"Good, good." A wave of relief hit him. She wasn't going to fight him on this. Not now, at least, which was good enough for him. "Quédate conmigo por teléfono y asegúrate de preguntar por Officer Rivera o López. No abras la puerta a nadie más. Nobody, Mami." (Stay on the phone with me and make sure to ask for Officer Rivera or Lopez. Don't open the door for anyone else.)

His life just kept getting better and better.


	12. Hard to Breathe

When Rafael got to his mother's, Officer José Rivera was, thankfully, already there. Rivera was the grandson of one of his grandmother's good friends, and Rafael trusted him. Rafael purposefully named the two officers that he knew his mother was quite familiar with so she wouldn't let someone posing in, because it was hard to pinpoint just how far Trujillo's reach went. He covered his tracks well. Always had.

He walked passed the cop car and into the building, his mother standing near the stairs, Officer Rivera and his partner a couple of feet away.

He called out to get her attention. "Mami."

She immediately turned around, looking grim, and started walking towards him, meeting him halfway. "Rafi."

Lucía immediately pulled her son into a hug, ignoring how tense Rafael was initially when she'd done so. "You didn't have to come all the way down here for this."

"Yes, Mami, I did," he replied, not missing a beat. She was in this mess because of him. "Lo siento tanto." (I'm so sorry.)

She hugged him tighter. "Don't you dare apologize for this, Rafael. Nunca." (Never.)

After a moment he pulled back and turned to the two officers. "Have you found anything?"

"No," Rivera's partner said. "Not yet but we'll keep looking."

"We'll have units posted on this block tonight," Rivera said. "See if whoever it is comes back. It's a long shot, but we might get something out of it. And I have two officers canvassing. Talking to the neighbours."

He nodded. "A lot of good that'll do. Ramírez -"

"Mira, I know it's frustrating," Rivera said, "but Rafael none of us are going to let something happen to your mother. And if this is connected to Ramírez, as you suspect, he'd want you to know. Your mother, she mentioned a watch. Does that have any particular meaning to you?"

"Not as such," he said, "but he said, ' _la próxima vez será tu madre.'_ It's a vague connection to time. It's weak, lo sé, but it's him. He's got one of his patsies doing this. I know it."

Rivera nodded. "We're looking into that and BX9. We're doing what we can. Why don't you go help your mother pack a bag?"

He sighed, looking over at his mother.

"Come on, Mijo," she said. She then gave him a teasing yet serious look. "Y tú eres el que duerme en el sofá esta noche. Espero que lo sepas." (And you're the one sleeping on the couch tonight. I hope you know that.)

He rolled his eyes rather dramatically. "Somehow I'll make do. Al menos sabré que estás a salvo, Mami." (At least I'll know you're safe, Mami.)

Rafael had trouble focusing on his job over the next several days. Worse than usual, in any case. He'd already had enough issues to be getting on with, but now he was even more stressed out. And noticeably so.

C.S.U had ransacked everything but hadn't been able to find much. They'd eventually figured out that the window near the fire escape had been shimmied open and they were testing fingerprints but didn't expect to get any clean prints. No other contact has been made, and his mother, never one to run, hadn't stopped going to work and quickly decided to move back into her home a couple of days later.

He'd made her promise to lock her doors and to contact him when she was leaving work and getting home so he'd know she was safe. She humoured him, thankfully, knowing he needed it for his own peace of mind and it had little to do with him not thinking she could handle herself.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't just worried. He felt guilty as hell. He was the only reason his mother had gotten pulled into this mess. If he'd kept his mouth shut, done as he was told to, his mother wouldn't be in danger.

"Barba. Earth to Barba!" Carisi said, pulling Rafael out of his musings. "You haven't been listening to a thing we've been saying, have you?"

Rollins quirked an eyebrow. "Obviously."

Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, but given what's in this file -" He made a vague gesture. "It's gonna be a long trial. Lots of witnesses."

"All right, what can we do? Rollins asked.

"Means you got to re-vet every witness," he said. "No surprises."

"And the warrant?" Fin inquired.

"I'll get that warrant you asked for from Judge Petrovsky within the hour," he said. "You have more than enough here for her or one of the more forgiving judges."

They all nodded, getting to their feet, but Benson was the first to speak, quickly catching up to him as he started walking away. "Barba, walk you out?"

He looked at her. "What's up?"

She shot him an assessing look. "I don't know. You tell me. You okay with all this?

"Are you?" he deadpanned.

She moved directly in front of him, but not threateningly so. "You've been off the last couple days, and I get it, I do, but -

He tilted his chin up and set his jaw. "Look," he said, "with all due respect, I'm not having this conversation right now. I'm managing, and if you can't trust me... then I'm done."

"I do trust you," she assured him, nodding slightly, "but you do have to say something if you're not up to trying this case. No one will think less of you." He nodded. "I'm not going to push, but if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

He gave her another curt nod, swallowing a lump his throat. "I do."

She gave him a small grin. "Good." She seemed to consider something for a moment. "How do you feel about Spaghetti night? Noah would love to see you."

A bittersweet smile on his lips, he nodded. He didn't particularly feel like doing anything, but he did miss Noah. He was torn. "Sound's great, Liv."

She smiled more warmly now. "Perfect. So my house tomorrow at seven then."

He nodded and changed the conversation more towards Noah and how the boy had been doing, trying to keep the conversation off of himself while the pair made their way outside.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze as he threw himself into the stack of files on his desk, he hadn't even realized how much time had passed until Carmen came in to let him know she was leaving for work.

He'd known she'd been hinting at him going home as well, but when she'd left he'd simply poured himself a fresh coffee and sat back down at his desk, replying to a text from his mother and another from Eddie. He then tossed his phone to the side, trying to lose himself in his stack of work once more, trying to ignore the racing thoughts that he couldn't seem to silence no matter how badly he wanted to.

He couldn't focus. however, and took his drink over to the window, where he could look out onto the street.

It did nothing to stop the racing thoughts, and before Rafael registered it he had pounded his fist against the wall, yelling "To hell with him!" loud enough that if anyone else had still been working, they would've heard. Tears were streaming down his face as he did so. His hand was bleeding from the punch, but he didn't care in the slightest. He continued slamming his fists against the wall a few more times, before he stopped, collapsing against the floor. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”


	13. Mercy

Things got little easier for Rafael over the next couple of weeks. They were no closer to finding out who broke into his mother’s and work hadn't gotten any easier. He'd been slammed with cases as of late and ended up working rather late nights more often than not and basically living off coffee.

He was beyond tired and last night he'd found himself coming down with a nasty case of lightheadedness and shortness of breath that, honestly, scared him more than the noticeable tightness in his chest.

The episode passed entirely after about fifteen minutes, and Rafael started to feel like himself again. Still, he'd drank some water and tried to get some sleep, hoping that might help given how little sleep he'd been getting, and woke up and tried to go about his regular day.

He felt fine most of the day, but he'd left Rita Calhoun's office that morning looking pale enough that she didn't hide her concern in the slightest.

"I'm fine, Calhoun," he lied, trying to cover up how dizzy and out of it he had felt only moments before. He was getting scared but wasn't going to tell her that.

She gave him a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"

He glared at her, but his heart wasn't really in it. "I'm fine, thanks for your concern."

Another doubtful look. "Ok. If you say so."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't you have another prosecutor to bother?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Several. You know it's my favourite pastime."

He gave a snort. "Then by all means."

He was a bit relieved when she saw herself out, not wanting to deal with her concern any more than he already had.

The rest of the day was made up of another meeting and a lot of prep work he had to do. After grabbing a sandwich for lunch, he dived right into managing his files, and spent the next hour or so doing that before he was called down to the 1-6.

He'd sat in on interrogation of this football athlete that was found with a 19-year-old girl that had been assaulted behind a dumpster at a fraternity party. Not that they had gained much of anything useful from the scene. The suspect was far from the brightest human being on the planet, however, and wasn't even trying to cover up the fact that he'd had sexual contact with the victim and intended to take things farther.

He claimed he had had her verbal consent however and gave a weak excuse about throwing up and other such nonsense.

Thankfully, there were two freshman students nearby who happened to interrupt the assault, preventing it from going any further. The witnesses would be playing a huge part in the case, obviously, and, thankfully, both men had made it exceptionally clear that they would testify in a heartbeat for the poor woman who'd been attacked.

The victim was still traumatized though. Another upper-class jock treating women like a piece of property and likely to get away with it, if Hudson had any say. How such a backwards attitude still subsisted was beyond him. It was disgusting.

You'd think that they'd learn at some point, but he wasn't getting his hopes up. Still, between the witnesses and the DNA, they were well on their way to building a very strong case, no matter what the university thought.

"Well, ain't he a piece of work," Rafael said.

"I know," Benson replied. "At least we have the two other eyewitnesses and the DNA."

"The joys of DNA," he said with a snort.

"The witnesses are solid so there's no problem there," Rollins said, "so I'm not sure how this guy is so sure he'll get away with it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Arrogance. It'll get you every time."

Carisi nodded. "Ain't that the truth."

Out of nowhere, Rafael was hit like a brick. He felt like he was underwater. He was feeling so dizzy and it was getting hard to breathe. The room felt like it was spinning. He tried to move to take a seat, but a wave of pain hit.

Everyone had noticed how pale and sweaty he'd instantly gotten and were trying to talk to him but he was hardly registering any of it. He did make out Fin mentioning calling a bus, but the replies were hazy.

Eyes squeezed closed, Rafael gave a hiss of pain, clutching his chest. It felt like his chest was on fire. Opening his eyes, feeling rather weak, he gripped the table, going down onto one knee. He wasn't going to make it to a chair.

Benson wasted no time in kneeling next to him, trying to support him. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was getting harder.

Benson nudged him several times. “Stay with me, Counsellor."

She repeated the mantra again and again, and he tried, he did, but he couldn't. Moments later he lost the fight, head sagging into Benson's chest as she tried to keep him from hitting the floor.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, Rafael's lips had turned blue. The squad, more than a little worried, watched as the paramedics quickly ripped open his shirt and gave him CPR, trying to shock his heart back into beating.

They'd managed in the end, but it had been a close thing. The paramedics tried one last time before they were going to declare him dead on the scene, but it had finally worked. They'd quickly gotten him into the ambulance, Benson jumping in along with him, and rushed him to Mercy General.

Carisi looked at his remaining colleagues, trying to keep his emotions in check and think rationally despite how worried he was. "I'll call his mother."

"Good," Rollins said with a curt nod, noticeably shaken by what was going on. She quickly gestured to the sergeant, "but he's driving us. And don't complain, Fin."

The sergeant rolled his eyes. "Alright, Amanda. Let's go then. The faster you're in the faster we'll get there."

She rolled her eyes, making her way over to the car a few feet away.


	14. Hope

Rafael was, thankfully, stabilized enough that the doctors were hopeful that if they got him through the next forty-eight hours he would manage to make a full recovery. With that being said, he ended up spending four days in the coronary care unit and another night in the general ward. He was more than happy to get out of the CCU but wasn't happy in the slightest about having to spend another night in the hospital.

He was rather tired, with good reason, but his mother and doctor tried to get him up, walking around the ward a bit. His mother was definitely acting like a mother hen, but he could understand why and honestly was feeling too weak to actually want to put up much of a fight over it.

He'd then spent the next week at his mother's and about three weeks after he left the hospital he went in for an assessment with the hospital's cardiac rehabilitation team and started their program.

It was another two weeks before Rafael was feeling well enough physically to return to work, but was on strict orders from McCoy to take it as easy as possible. Something that Rafael was exceptionally not good at.

Rafael raised an eyebrow at the comment. "You do realize this is the D.A's Office, right? Taking it easy here is doing ten hours of overtime instead of something like thirty."

The District Attorney rolled his eyes but didn't argue the rather accurate point. "I concede your point, but do try. This is still my jurisdiction and people do what I say or they pay the price." Now it was Rafael's turn to roll his eyes. "You're worse than most, Rafael. I want you going home at a decent hour. My first wife also made me promise to never eat at my desk." McCoy raised an eyebrow. "It's sound advice."

He gave a small sigh. "I'll... take it under advisement."

McCoy shot him a self-satisfied smile. "Good." He seemed to consider his next words carefully. "Ramírez isn't worth digging yourself an early grave."

He took a shaky breath. "I know."

Benson had also lost it on Rafael for scaring her and asked him to actually consider getting help as he clearly wasn't coping. And she wasn't the only one. The entire squad had something to say, as did Carmen, Calhoun, and Eddie. His mother had already made her position clear twice over so there was no question about where she stood. As such, he'd actually started meeting with Dr. Lindstrom. It had initially been to get a referral to someone else, but he'd found he didn't mind the doctor all that much and he hadn't felt much like dealing with yet another stranger.

He hadn't actually expected it to help at all, but he was surprised. He didn't know what he expected, but therapy wasn't as bad as he had thought it was going to be. It still sucked, and he hated discussing everything, but he _was_ giving it a chance.

With that being said, he was still rather tired. Nothing else had happened in regards to his mother, so he was starting to relax there slightly, but the concern was still there. The nightmares were becoming less frequent though, and easier to handle when they did happen.

He was pulled out of his musings by a knock on the door, the door opening almost immediately after the third knock. "I'm heading out for lunch. You should consider doing the same. You look like you could use the break."

He kept the thought that he could use a coffee more than a break to himself, but had to agree she had a point. The coffee, however... That was one of the things that irritated him the most about this entire ordeal. Before long he'd be able to have coffee in moderation again but was told to avoid it entirely for the time being. He gave his assistant a small smile, closing the file in front of him. "Is that an order?"

She gave a little hum. "No, it's just a very tempered suggestion."

"Very tempered suggestion, my ass," he said with a snort. He'd been back for three weeks, and she was still a bit overprotective. He stood up, deciding to take her advice. "I'll take a break." He smiled. "I'll see you later, Carmen."

She nodded, making her way out of the office and closing the door behind her.

Shaking his head, amused despite himself, he grabbed his jacket and keys, heading out the door to grab lunch at Forlini's.

He grabbed a chicken breast, a salad, and stuck with a glass of water to drink, not having much of a choice in the matter.

After eating he chatted briefly with Anthony, nursing another glass of water, before he went back to his office, managing his files and trying to get as much work done as possible as he had two arraignments and a motion hearing the following morning.

He had a meeting at three o'clock with Buchanan regarding an offer for a deal, which Rafael didn't take, opting to take the case to court instead of accepting the weak plea deal that Buchanan had offered.

Besides that, the afternoon went rather well, and Rafael actually felt a lot more like himself than he had in a long time.

The rest of the afternoon passed rather quickly, and Rafael was out of the office by five, stopping by Eddie's for a quick visit as Eddie was home and Rafael didn't much feel like going home just yet.

As he joined the Bensons for dinner at half-past six, playing and joking around with Noah and his mother, a small spark of something filled him that he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. Maybe Benson was right. Maybe things would be alright after all.

He went to grab them a drink in the kitchen as Noah threw a movie on, Benson following close behind. He gave her a small smile as he passed her her glass.

"You seem to be in a better mood."

He hummed. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Being in my corner."

She smiled. "Always, Rafa. You don't need to thank me for that."

"I do," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's been really hard, but, I don't know... just... thanks. When all this started I didn't think I'd make it through the next hour -" His voice broke slightly. "let alone months. So, thanks."

She squeezed his hand and opened her mouth to respond. They were interrupted by Noah, however. "The movie's on!"

He gave a soft chuckle, Olivia shaking her head in amusement. "Let's not keep mi amigo waiting then, m’lady.”

She gestured to the living room, a lopsided smile on her lips. "Lead the way then, kind sir.”


	15. Staring Long into the Abyss

Rafael was still having slightly more bad days than good ones, but he was holding it together for the most part and trying to look after himself as much as possible, which seemed to help a lot, and attending therapy.

He'd become a lot more comfortable with Dr. Lindstrom, which made it easier to talk, but Rafael had almost snapped when the therapist started asking more about his personal life. They were continuing a previous discussion regarding his support network when Dr. Lindstrom brought up a conversation Rafael hated having: his father.

"I told you I'm not discussing him," Rafael barked out, his hands clenching into fists by his side. He hated talking about him.

"Well," the other man fired back, "I think we should." He gestured to Rafael's hands. "And that's a very good example of why." Rafael glared, but it honestly didn't seem to phase Dr. Lindstrom in the slightest. "You're still mad at him."

"Yes," he forced out, relaxing his hands and trying to keep his temper in check. He played with his face for a moment.

"When did he pass away?"

Rafael sighed. "Almost eighteen years ago, my old man went into a diabetic coma, and he was on life support for six weeks."

The other man nodded. "I'd like to talk about how you felt about that for a moment."

"I hated the man," he said. "He drank and let's just say that he was not well-liked. By anyone. Especially me. I hated the man. Still, I was at the hospital every morning before work, and every night, until the nurses threw me out. The doctors said that there was nothing they could do for him. There was no brain activity. They highly recommended that we end it. My mother wouldn't make a decision so I was forced to decide. I couldn't do it though. _Where there's life, there's hope!"_ He shook his head. "I hated him, but I didn't want to be the reason he took his last breath. He eventually passed away on his own due to his condition."

"That must have been hard having the choice pushed on you," the therapist said. "Was there a reason you were so angry at him?"

Rafael clenched his fists again slightly. "We had no relationship. I hated him. He was dying but he took that from me."

" _That_. What do you mean?"

"I was expected to play the part of grieving son," he said. "I had to be there for my hurting mother and deal with the mess that the bastard was leaving behind, but how could I grieve a man who did nothing but beat me and treat me like I was worthless. Part of me was relieved, and the other part... just numb." He shrugged his shoulders. "You can't grieve something you never had."

"You mean he took away you being able to have a father."

He nodded a bit hesitantly. "I guess a part of me hoped that -" He made a vague gesture following that comment. "I don't know."

"And how do you feel about him now?"

Rafael didn't even need to think about the answer. "I still hate him."

The rest of the conversation wasn't easy either, and when Rafael was at his mother's for dinner he was more than a little irritable. His mother hadn't helped in the slightest, saying a few too many comments that put him on edge. She loved him, she did, but sometimes the things she'd say... He loved his mother and knew she loved him, but she didn't seem to even understand why certain remarks would upset him.

She'd just finished telling a story involving his father that Rafael had heard more than once before and wasn't in the mood to hear.

"Mami,” he said through a forced calm, “can we talk about something else?”

"¿Qué?" (What?)

He just gave her a look, not trusting himself to speak.

"¡Ay, tremendo paquete!" She raised an eyebrow. "¿Qué te pasa hoy, Rafael?" " his mother said with a pointed look. "Has tenido una actitud toda la noche." (Ay, so much drama! What's gotten into you today, Rafael? You've had an attitude all evening.)

"Tumba eso, Mami." He said it through clenched teeth. (Let it go, Mami.)

She clearly wasn't buying what he was selling. "¿De verdad?" Rafael wasn't very forthcoming with a response. "¡Dale! Si tienes algo que decir hijo mío, simplemente dilo." (Really? Come on! If you have something to say, son of mine, just say it.)

"No es nada, de veras," he said. "Pido disculpas por la actitud anterior." (It's nothing, really. I apologize for my attitude earlier.)

She looked at him. "Rafi -"

"Me piro," he said, standing up and grabbing his things. "Se está haciendo tarde de todos modos, y ambos tenemos que ir al trabajo mañana." (I'll get going. It's getting late anyway, and we both have to work tomorrow.)

She seemed to think better of fighting him on this so just nodded her head, frowning slightly. It wasn't particularly late. He just wanted to go home and she knew it. "Llámame mañana entonces." (Call me tomorrow then.)

He tilted his head in a half-nod, and stepped forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Te quiero tanto." (I love you you so much.)

She gave him a small bittersweet smile. "Yo también te quiero, Papito."

He called a cab and made the trip back to his empty apartment, not sure what to do with himself. He tried to distract himself, tried to read, tried to watch some mindless TV and take his mind off of things, but none of it seemed to work.

He rummaged around his kitchen for a tumbler and pulled out an unopened bottle of single malt, swiftly pouring himself a half glass over ice. He brought it to his nose to take in the biting yet smooth scent.

Sitting back down on the couch, he stared at the flat-screen TV in front of him as he drank, not actually paying attention to what was on. A million things were running through his mind and he couldn't seem to turn it off.

He finished that glass, and half of another one before texting Benson, who responded just moments after. ' _Rough day?'_

He quickly texted back. _'You have no idea.'_

There was a bit of a pause, but Rafael assumed she was either considering what to say or was focused on Noah, who was and should be her priority. She hadn't mentioned any plans when they spoke earlier, so he didn't think she had any guests over, although he could be wrong. _'You need a sidebar, Rafa? I can get Amanda to watch Noah for the night.'_

He blinked, reading the message again. _'Please.'_

_'I'll be there in twenty.'_


	16. More Sparks of Hope

The next month and a half were a roller coaster for Rafael. He was going running again both with and without Rollins, although he wasn’t quite at the same ability as before the heart attack, and was still spending a lot of time in therapy. The latter was helping, the nightmares lessening substantially, but every now and then he would still have a nightmare about his assault. And he'd had an exceptionally spectacular episode a couple of weeks prior that had been difficult to get passed.

_The day had been a nightmare. From the second he woke up and saw the front page of the newspaper, the day had been a nightmare. One of Nevada Ramírez's little friends had apparently done some bribing, and now multiple photos from his rape kit where all over the internet for anyone and everyone to see._

_That was how he found himself in the bathroom, leaning over his sink slightly, his wrist stinging lightly. It was just one thing after another these past few months, and he'd acted on instinct. Unthinking. He'd recalled the feeling that he had gotten during the incident with the precinct mirror, and needed that. Desperately._

_Benson had tried to help, but there was only so much she could do, and Dr. Lindstrom's secretary had told him when he called at lunch that there wasn't an opening until the next day. The rest of the afternoon had gone little better, his case once again being the favourite water-cooler gossip._

_Though hesitant to start, once he had he couldn't stop. There was a second cut and a third, and then cuts began to cover most of his wrist before he could finally get a hold of himself and put the razor down. The cuts were never too deep, never enough to die. But enough to feel the pain. Enough to feel the scream inside. He may not be in control of anything else, but he was in control of his own body. A small part of him was horrified by what he'd done, but the larger part felt nothing_.

_A strange sense of calm washing over him, he immediately put pressure on the cuts, and once the bleeding stopped, he found some disinfectant, cleaning and bandaging the wounds. The sting from the disinfectant not exactly unwelcome either._

_Changing his shirt and throwing the other in the wash, he poured himself a coffee and made his way to the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, he flipped through the channels, trying to find something that might vaguely hold his attention._

That hadn't been the first time he'd cut, and he'd not done exceptionally well at hiding the scars. He'd had had Benson and Dr. Lindstrom on him about it before long. Not judging in any way, but pointing out, rather firmly, all the ways it could go wrong. Lindstrom had talked to him about _why_ he wanted to harm himself and _what_ he'd get out of it. They had also discussed various coping methods for Rafael to use if he felt like doing it again.

_"I've already mentioned that self-harm is addictive," the therapist said, "I do want to emphasize though, Rafael, that self-harm isn't just cutting. Things like, not eating properly or drinking too much are definitely included. You need to take care of yourself in other ways as well."_

As for other matters, he'd been encouraged to actually talk to his mother about how he felt about her role in the abuse he'd suffered growing up, and everything else that had happened with his father. That hadn't been an easy conversation, to say the least. They hadn't talked for a couple of weeks after that before his mother showed up one evening. She'd pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down her face, and apologized.

It didn't change anything really, but for him to get an apology from his mother, who had been extremely passive-aggressive when it came to supporting him at times, especially when he was younger, had been huge in a way he couldn't really articulate.

 _"Stick with Alex. He'll be mayor of New York someday."_ He'd been seven when his mother said that. She'd never said that about her own son. She likely hadn't been trying to, at least not knowingly, but those kinds of frequent comments only served to reinforce Mauricio Barba's assertion that his son was pathetic, was never going to amount to anything.

He hadn't realized how much he'd needed her to say she was proud of him until he was a crying mess because she'd said it.

He simultaneously hated and liked therapy. It was one of the hardest things he'd done, and initially, things had gotten a lot worse before they'd got even slightly better, but he was finally starting to have a lot more good days than bad ones and see the end of the rainbow.

He was pulled out of his musings as there was a knock on his door and Benson immediately came waltzing into his office.

He smiled warmly at her as he closed his laptop, shifting slightly in his chair to better face her as they talked. "Lieutenant."

"You're smiling, Barba," his best friend teased. Truth be told, she was glad to see it. It was hard watching him struggle so much. "Why is that freaking me out?" She took a seat in one of the chairs in front of him.

The smile turned into a smirk and his eyes were sparkling with a hint of mischief. "I had the immense pleasure of pissing off Buchanan earlier."

She chuckled. "Oh, yes, your favourite pastime."

"Indeed." He stood up, walking to the door and asking for Carmen to grab them both a coffee. "To what do I owe the visit?"

"I have the written and video transcripts for the Mikaelson case for you."

She passed over the files and he put them off to the side for later.

"Thank you," he said. "How's Noah been?"

"Good," she said, smiling even wider. "He actually drew a picture for you last night." She raised an eyebrow. "And apparently my son is already planning on being a convict?" There was a glint in her eyes that betrayed amusement.

He looked equally serious and amused. "Your son decided to retain me for Eduardo Elefante. He gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"Oh really now?"

"What?" he said, feigning offence. "I'm not stupid enough to turn down goldfish. And ice cream prices are much too high nowadays."

She laughed, playing with her hair slightly. "I thought you didn't trust that elephant?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Goldfish, Liv. Goldfish." He said it in such a way that it sounded as though that explained everything.

She rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly. "He's got you wrapped around his finger. What happened to the man who held my son like he was a bomb?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I deny any such claims, Lieutenant." He had. He'd felt petrified when he'd held Noah the first time. To say Rafael had been very unfamiliar with children, particularly infants, would be an understatement. He'd simply never been around them.

The gave a snort, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Mr. Barba, the evidence is rather overwhelming."

"All hearsay!" he quipped. He made a gesture, waving the comment off. "We'll get it thrown out."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You have time for a bite to eat later or are you too busy with work? Noah has a sleepover tonight, so..."

"Sure." It came out rather tentatively, as he was unsure if she'd been lightly flirting earlier or if that was just his imagination. He was fairly certain she had been. They'd definitely flirted before. A part of him couldn't wrap his head around the fact she might actually return his feelings though. "Forlini's? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?"

She smiled. "Forlini's works. Say, seven o'clock?"

He nodded, any traces of uncertainty leaving his face. "Sounds good, Liv."


	17. A weekend Outing

He woke up, yawning. He was still a bit tired, but this time the slight fatigue had nothing to do with nightmares or stress. He'd been over at the Bensons' quite late the previous night. Benson made them some cod, brown rice and steamed vegetables, largely for Rafael's benefit, as he needed to watch his diet and then turned on Netflix, watching some action movie that Benson picked and intermittently chatting about whatever happened to come to mind over the course of the night.

Getting out of bed, he quickly got dressed, took his medication with a glass of cold water, made himself a cup of café con leche, and then threw together some pan Cubano con mantequilla - swapping out the butter for Benecol margarine for health reasons - for breakfast before going out for a short run.

When he got back to his apartment he had a quick shower and changed into a pair of khaki pants and a white, long-sleeve, linen shirt.

Pouring himself a glass of water and placing it on the coffee table, he rummaged threw his books, before sitting down in his lounge chair to read. He finished the last two chapters of ' _Crossing to Safety'_ by Wallace Stegner before starting on _'Cien Años de Soledad' by_ Gabriel García Márquez. He'd read it before, both in English and the original Spanish, but it had been more than a few years since then.

He'd always been a big reader growing up and had gotten back into it recently. Over the years he had read everything from ' _The Count of Monte Cristo'_ to _'Don Quixote'_ and everything in between.

He lounged around the house for a couple of hours before his phone went off. Momentarily putting down the book, he picked up his phone to see he'd gotten a text message from Carisi and had somehow missed a call from Benson. _'Hey! How's your morning going?'_

Curiosity piqued, he wrote a text back. _'Mine's fine, and yours?'_

He didn't have to wait long for another reply. " _Mine's good. A few of us are actually thinking of going to the Natural History Museum after lunch if you wanted to come along.'_

_'Who is us?'_

_'Amanda and the Lieu want to get the kids out of the house, so it'll be basically all of us except for Fin.'_

He furrowed his brow slightly. ' _And you're at Rollins'? There something you'd like to tell me, Staten Island?'_

_'I plead the fifth, Island Boy. So, you in?'_

Rafael rolled his eyes at the poor deflection - although he was amused by the nickname - before considering the invitation for a brief moment. He'd had no other plans really, and it actually _would_ be nice to see the Noah and Benson. ' _Text me the time and I'll be there.'_

_'Great. See you then!'_

That conversation done, he returned Benson's phone call, which was her extending the same invitation, and went back to reading his book.

Eventually, he got up and rummaged through his refrigerator. Pulling out the leftover lechón his mother had sent him home with, some queso blanco, and a few other ingredients, he made himself a Cuban sandwich with a side of homemade mariquitas or plantain chips and a glass of lemon water. He could have just bought the plantain chips at a bodega but then they would've had too much salt.

He did the dishes and threw a load of dirty laundry on and then it was time for him to go and meet everyone at the museum.

Walking up towards the main doors, he spotted the group; Benson waving at him, and Noah starting to run over to him.

Noah immediately threw his arms around him. "Uncle Rafa!"

He ruffled Noah's hair. "Well, hello to you too."

"I'm glad you're here with us," the five-year-old said, looking up at him.

Rafael gave the boy an earnest smile. "Me too, Buddy."

Noah started chattering happily, telling him a story about something that had happened at school a couple of days previous, while the pair made their way over to the group waiting for them.

Jesse perked up as he walked up. "Rafa!"

"Hi, Jess." He returned the girl's smile, and looked between the three other adults present, giving them a small nod. "Everyone."

Both Carisi and Rollins gave him a warm welcome, but his attention was rather quickly pulled to Benson who was beaming at him. "How was your morning?"

He gave a little hum. "Relaxing."

She smirked. "So, you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Pot, I'd like to properly introduce you to Kettle."

She rolled her eyes. "Haha. Have you considered a career in comedy?"

He smirked. "I know. I'm a riot."

"Do you two workaholics want to get a room," Rollins chimed in, "or are ya'll going to join the rest of us in the museum?"

Carisi could keep himself from snickering when he saw the colour flooding both Benson and Rafael's faces.

"What do you mean by that, Aunty?" Noah asked.

"Oh, nothing, Kiddo!" the blonde detective said. She looked between Noah and Jesse. "What exhibit would you like to see first?"

The squealing about dinosaurs that proceeded was a little too much for Rafael's ears, but he rolled his eyes indulgently as Noah started to discuss his favourite.

They checked out the halls for the mammals and dinosaurs but spent most of their time in the Human Origins and Cultural Halls, where Rafael and Carisi spent a fair amount of time answering the kids' questions, particularly when they got to the sixty-three-foot dugout red cedar Haida Canoe, both the kids' curiosity piqued.

Overall, he was enjoying himself, chatting amicably with the others and indulging in his usual banter with Benson, which had somewhere along the line became one of his favourite activities.

The kids had run ahead with Rollins a few feet behind them to look at something or other and Carisi had started following her, Benson and Rafael lagging a touch behind, caught up on the crowd.

It was fine until one of the people walking by, a brunet male in a red shirt, accidentally bumped into Rafael while he was trying to catch up with his own kid.

Rafael made a small, strangled, noise as his back hit the wall, feeling trapped at once. An overwhelming sense of dread immediately washed over him and it felt as though his chest and windpipe were closing up. Breathing was hard. Really hard. As if he'd just run the TCS New York City Marathon or something of the sort.

His mouth had gone dry. His hands were shaking. His feet were tingling. His vision was impaired, seeming almost as if he were peering through a fish-eye lens. He needed out of there.

"Rafa. Hey. Hey. You're okay." Benson was trying to reassure him, and he could see her lips moving, but couldn't hear the words over his pounding heart. He swallowed. "Rafa, you're safe."

He took a few slow deliberate breaths, desperately trying to calm himself down some. "Liv," he finally managed to croak out after a moment.

"Just take a few more steady breaths," she said calmly, immediately leading by example until his breathing had returned to normal.

He could see Carisi and Benson giving him looks of varying degrees of concern, but he deliberately tried to ignore it. "I'm thirsty." He took a shaky breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm going to get a bottle of water and then I'll meet you all at the next exhibit."

Benson gave him a sad smile. "I'll come with. I could use one too."

Wearing a matching smile, he nodded, not having the energy to argue, and started to walk in the direction that he needed to go, Benson falling into step beside him.

Hopefully, the earlier mess wasn't a sign for how the rest of his day was going to go.


	18. Peripatetic

Thankfully, the rest of Saturday had gone better for Rafael. He'd been on edge for quite a while after his little episode but had managed to relax some, and Noah's enthusiasm was contagious.

After a couple of hours at the museum, he'd made his way to the Bronx and helped his mother tidy up her house some as Eddie Santiago and Frankie Ruiz played in the background. Several relatives were coming over that night who would be staying with her for a few days. They'd come down for his mother's birthday.

He'd had a small dinner with his relatives, which had been... nice, although more than a little hectic. Overall, it had gone smoothly, but Rafael had gone home smelling like an odd mix of Creolina with a hint of roasted pernil. Not for the first or last time. He'd definitely needed a shower.

Sunday was spent first at Mass with his mother and then spent the rest of the day at her home with his aunt, uncle, and cousins who'd made the trip down from Miami, his paternal grandmother, Abuela Nena, joining them as well as his other aunt and uncle.

He hadn't regularly attended Mass in a long time - although, he'd always make sure to go during holy week and Christmas, at the very least. He did attend outside of that as well, but definitely not regularly, much to his mother's dismay.

He had been raised in a very conservative, Cuban, household and attended catholic school. Most of his family and the people he'd grown up with were extremely _católico_. He just had a weird relationship with his faith, given the things he saw at work and everything that had happened with his father.

They had a nice lunch and sat around chatting and playing a few rounds of dominos, before his mother opened her gives, music playing in the background the entire time. It had started out with Benny Moré, then moved to Alejandro Sanz, to Celia Cruz and any other song that came to mind. He hadn't been surprised when the music turned into a bunch of boleros.

A few of his relatives made a comment or two that put him on edge, but nothing remotely deliberate and his mother was a pretty good buffer, so they'd just move on and it was fine. He was also more focused on his mother than anything else at the moment, so just kind of brushed it off and enjoyed the visit.

Monday meant he was back at work. He arrived at the office with more than a few voicemails and emails waiting for him.

He dealt with those and made his way to court. Officers started appearing at nine o'clock for the scheduled grand jury presentation. None arrived at the same time as each other or any of the civilian witnesses. It was a problem because it made it difficult to present a case to the grand jury if you were unsure any of your witnesses were actually going to show up.

It's had been a short day in the grand jury, so he was done by a quarter to eleven in the morning, which meant he had just made it on time for the 10:30 a.m. meeting that he was having downstairs.

Somehow, eight officers, an attorney, and his client all arrived on time for his 10:30 meeting. However, the client then spent an hour waffling on whether to participate in the meeting. When the man finally did, the meeting lasted until 1:40 p.m.

He shook his head as he was walking back into his office and caught Carmen's eye. "Some people, I swear."

She gave him a lopsided smile. "That bad?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "My God. The man is an idiot."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not even going to ask."

He smirked. "Good call."

That prolonged meeting meant that he just scarfed down a sandwich while he waited for his two o'clock appointment; who thankfully showed up on time. That break gave him some time to return the remaining voicemails from that morning and the _six_ more that had piled up since then.

The meeting with Buchanan was his last one for the day, so he then sat down at his desk to manage his files in an attempt to get as much work done as possible.

He didn't get to manage his files much, as he quickly found himself called down to the precinct. Walking in, he spotted Benson and made his way over to her.

"So, where's the fire?"

He had been quickly filled in on the case.

Benson and Carisi had discussed the victim's injuries from the doctor at the hospital. The rape kit tested positive. The victim's name was Grace Walker and she had no family that they knew of. The hospital had found she had a high BAC and also had THC in her system. Grace disclosed that she didn't recall the attack. She remembered that it was raining and she had been on her way home. She had ducked into a bar to wait it out. Guys brought her a few drinks and she woke up at the hospital. She hadn't been able to recall any names.

They'd managed to connect Silas Perry to this, but that was it. They really needed this interrogation to reveal something.

"The bar was closing," the suspect - Silas Perry - said. "Grace wasn't ready to call it a night. She wanted to hit some after-hours joint. I should've gone home."

"But you were doing your thinking from below the belt," Rollins said.

Silas seemed fairly confident. "Stupid's not against the law."

"Well, horny might be," Rollins said.

Fin gave the man a pointed look. "You knock all your women unconscious?"

"How many times do I have to say it?" the suspect shot back. "She attacked me."

Fin was now giving the suspect a look of amusement mixed with irritation. "-'Cause she was trying to rob you?"

Silas spoke adamantly. "Yes!"

"You didn't call the cops?" Fin retorted, the comment more of a statement than an actual question.

"I'm married," Silas explained. "We had sex. I can live with a couple of black and blue marks."

"Well, isn't this guy a piece of work," Rafael said to Liv. They were outside the room watching the interrogation together.

"Well, he's certainly tenacious," Benson said. "I'll give him that."

Rafael didn't have time to respond, Carisi choosing that moment to walk in.

"Finally, somebody here to end our misery," Benson quipped.

Rafael wasn't as optimistic as the lieutenant, but was still a touch hopefully. "Please tell me you've got something for us, Carisi."

"Sorry to disappoint you both," Carisi said, "but it turns out Grace may not be who we thought she was."

"What?" Rafael said incredulously.

"Not only was the number she gave me fake, Counsellor," Carisi explained, "but the doorman at the building I dropped her off at had no idea who she was."

"This is just great," Rafael said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Take a look at this," Carisi said, pulling up the video footage he'd just got. Carisi then started to add commentary. "See, she goes in. She turns around. She comes right back out. Now, Grace was concerned about how her boyfriend was gonna react -"

"There's no guarantee he would ever find out even with her cooperation," Rafael said. He shook his head. "But needless to say, without her testimony, this case isn't going anywhere. I need something. Yesterday."

"Counsellor -

"Lieutenant, I have no cooperating victim and no evidence," Rafael said. "Unless you want me to indict the air... Find me something. And do it fast."

"Look, she stayed up drinking with him until two o’clock in the morning," Benson said. "She had to have said something that will help us find her."

"What's the plan, Lieu?"

"You'll see." Not bother to explain further, she quickly entered interrogation and Rafael watched as she told Silas she believed him and proceeded to ask him questions about what he and the vic talked about.

The interrogation wasn't especially useful until Silas kept going on about some unnamed diner on 155th near Broadway. Rafael wasn't entirely surprised when Benson told the detectives to put the perp in the cage.

"What's eating at you, Counsellor?" Rollins asked.

" _Peripatetic_ ," he drawled, eying both women. "Where does a homeless young adult learn a word like that?"

He can literally see the lightbulb go off in Rollins' eyes. She then quickly brought up the sorority house phone and the theory that Grace went to college there emerged.

"Send Fin and Carisi to Spence to speak with Theta Pi Kappa," Rafael barked out. "They'll be records of her at the college. Other students. Former classmates. It might be our lucky break."

Benson gave him an indulgent look. "You heard the man, Amanda. Get on it."

"Alright,” the blonde detective said. “I’ll talk to ya’ll the second I find something.”

Benson looked at Rafael. "Carisi just sent me a video from the girls' dorm. I'm going to watch it. Want to join me?"

"Any idea if it's useful for court?"

"Only one way to find out."

He shook his head. "Lead the way then, Lieutenant."

" _Hey, Sophie, Sophie!"_

_The girl, Sophie, was sitting on her bed. "Hello."_

_"Come on, everyone's going to the Zeta party tonight."_

_"Everyone except for this future doctor, that is," another friend said._

_"Come on, you know you want to go."_

_"Plus Paul's going."_

_Sophie groaned. "You better not be lying to me."_

_"And do a shot of tequila with me."_

_Sophie shook her head, bemused. "I need to get dressed."_

Once the video footage ended, he took a deep breath, turning the video footage off. "This was only a week before she disappeared?” He still felt a bit stunned. "I can't believe it's the same girl."

He couldn't. The lovely, vibrant, perspicuously studious girl on those tapes was nothing like the broken shell of a human being that SVU met at the hospital that day.

She had a sad smile on her face. "Three years of living on the street’ll do that to to a person."

He sighed. "I know. I just hope we can get this girl the help she needs."

"You and me both."

Another sigh. "Let's contact her parents and get this over with."

Neither had heard the person walking up behind them. "Way ahead of you, as usual, Counsellor!” Carisi said. "They're already here."

Rafael just gave a curt nod, not trusting his voice. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

It was definitely looking like the next few days were going to be very, very, long. He knew he was taking the case more personally should, but it was hard.

He pinched his hand lightly, trying to refocus, as he followed Carisi and Benson over to where the girl's parents were waiting.


	19. The Invitation

Within minutes of talking with the parents, he was disabused of any illusion that their conversation was going to be a remotely productive one.

All they'd gotten was a brief explanation that the girl's mother had passed away and that the father's second wife, the girl's stepmother, may have caused Sophie a fair bit of upset the last time they'd seen each other. The parents _did_ seem reasonable, and it _was_ good to know, but that was the only thing they'd gotten out of it. Problems particularly arose when the father became irate at learning they'd had her safely in custody and let her go; the girl immediately going back on the streets. Rafael had briefly tried to reason with the man but had quickly given up, excusing himself from the room. Benson wasn't far behind him.

"¡Ay, ay, ay! ¡Qué arroz con mango!" he said with a shake of the head. This case was a complete mess and it was looking less and less like this girl was going to get the slightest bit of justice for the hell she'd been put through. (Ay, ay, ay! What a clusterfuck!)

Benson gave him a small smile, easily understanding what he'd just said. Having mostly learned from taking classes, a good amount of the slang still escaped her, but _that_ was one expression she did know. She was just glad he was much more comfortable with the fact that he was Latin than she felt he had been years ago. Up until the last year or two any hints at all of his culture, at least at work, had been pretty far and in between.

"I know," she said, "but we'll figure it out, Barba. We always do. None of us are giving up." She placed a distinct emphasis on the next sentence, the Spanish rolling off her tongue. "Tú lo sabes." (You know that.)

He shook his head again. He knew she was right, and also knew the case wasn't any easier on her. "!Sí, lo sé! Pero -" (Yes, I know! But -)

She gave him a pointed look. "Necesitas relajarte, Rafa. Honestly, stressing yourself out is just going to make you sick. Go take a short break."

He rolled his eyes and was about to reply when they were interrupted by a knock on Benson's office door.

Rafael was the first to speak. "Please tell me you have some good news, Rollins."

The blonde detective gave him a look he couldn't quite read. "We found her."

"Thank heavens," he said. "Where is she?"

Rollins was clearly holding back a sigh as she spoke. "She is panhandling on the corner of Henry and Grand right now."

"Go," Benson said. "Go get her now before she has the chance to leave."

Rollins tilted her head in a nod, quickly heading back out of the room.

"You okay?" Benson asked, turning to face him once more.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm fine." She gave him a pointed look. "Ok, correction. I _will_ be fine."

She gave him a small smile in return, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Okay then. Can I talk you into grabbing everyone some actually good coffee? We're going to need it if we're all working a late one."

A soft chuckle left his lips, and a mischievous look was shining in his eyes. "Oh, I might be persuaded."

She gave him a look of amusement. "Have some terms, do we?"

"You know me," he quipped, the mischievous look even more noticeable now. "After this case is over, finally take me up on that steak dinner."

She gave him a rather indulgent smile, but there was a definite touch of anticipation and nervousness to it, letting him know that he hadn't read her wrong at all. Any serious doubt he may have had vanished. "Rafa -"

He raised an eyebrow, his thoughts written all over his face.

"I don't want _this -"_ She gestured between the both of them, referring to their friendship. "- ruined. And I have a kid. If we don't work out -"

He gave her a pointed look. "Are you done?"

She rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to speak.

"Believe me, I‘m aware of the risks," he said. "It's why I haven't been exactly forthcoming about my feelings. About whatever's going on between us." She nodded but didn't speak. "And yes, I know you're a package deal, and it might surprise you, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love Noah. I might not be the greatest with kids, but Noah's an incredible little boy and I happen to think his mother is equally amazing."

"You've gone through hell this year," she said. "What if you wake up one day and find that this -" She gestured between them again. "-isn't what you want? Considéralo."

A smirked formed on his lips. "!Dios mío, Mamá!" A light chuckle left her lips at the way he said it. "It's rather bold of you to assume that I haven't been head over heels for you for years." He gave her a pointed look. "Why do you think I reacted so poorly to finding out about you and Tucker? Olivia, honestly." He took a step towards her, kissing her on the forehead. "We can and, frankly, _should_ take it slow, but I want to give us a try. If you'll have me, that is. I'm serious about this. I'll be the first to admit to being pretty damn fucked up and having any number of idiosyncrasies, but trust me when I say I know what I want." Giving her a much warmer smile, he backed up and started to put his suit jacket back on. "So, coffee... Latte, right?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes. Thank you."

He waved the comment off, giving her another small smile as he walked into the main part of the squad room to get the others' orders. Giving the hour, the also grabbed everyone some sandwiches so that they'd be able to eat something besides a bunch of vending machine snacks.

He had his laptop in his briefcase, so just did some work on his phone and laptop at the precinct for an hour, given he had no idea if he'd be called back. By half-past six he wasn't going to be able to be much help anyway, as most of the judges would have already gone home, so he went home; leaving Benson to set up a meeting with the victim and a tour of the school for the next day while the rest of the detectives talked to several other students from Sophia's school. They were hoping to get a better picture of what had actually taken place. Why the girl had run.

He'd tossed and turned most of the night, and unfortunately, moving forward, things didn't get any easier. They'd finally solved the case, but with something like this, it was hard to really feel like it was a win in any real way.

He and Benson were sitting at Forlini's, both of them needing a sidebar. He was taking a sip out of his drink when Benson spoke. "This guy was a professor. They are supposed to _guide_ young minds and not _destroy_ them."

He sighed. "It's incredible what people will do to each other." He gave her a pointed look. “At least you managed to finally get through to the poor girl. A shame the bastards already dead, though."

She took a sip of her drink. "Funny," she said after a moment. "Carisi said the same thing."

He rolled his eyes. "Did you really just compare me to him?"

She chuckled. "You know you're fond of him. You liked having him shadow you at work more than you'll admit."

"If you ever tell him he's grown on me I'll deny it," Rafael said. He paused a second before saying the next part. "But you're not wrong."

“Deny it?” she teased, smirking. "Even under oath?"

He gave her an amused look, but only took another sip of his drink in response. "How did visiting the grave go?"

"I think it did her some good," Benson said with a small smile.

He nodded. "One can hope."

They'd found out that this former professor of Sophie's had raped her. The girl was so traumatized, but Benson had taken her on a tour of the school in the hopes that it might jog memories of the girl's attack and break through the rather serious mental illness. Incredibly, it had worked.

By the end, Sophie had recalled everything. The girl had gone from not even recognizing herself in a photograph and thinking her parents were dead to having herself back, more or less. But... she was extremely traumatized and she'd gone back to the streets within hours.

Luckily, they'd found her. Benson had been desperate to help, and took the girl under her wing, trying to counsel her. To all appearances, it had been fairly effective.

"It's hard to feel like this is a win," Benson said. "She lost years out of her life and will never get any actual justice. It's so unfair."

He gave her a sad smile. "The concept of what is fair, or right, or wrong, really ultimately has nothing to do with justice. You know that."

"I know," she said with a small dip of the head. "It's sure damn ugly sometimes."

He lifted up his glass in a cheering motion. Special Victims dealt with a particular kind of crime, which is a crime where the victim felt they were to blame. You were dealing with a justice system that was already going to be problematic. Already going to be flawed. Justice was painful. "Ain't that the truth." He looked over at her. "I love this job, but sometimes..."

She dipped her head slightly. "I know."

He took a deep breath. "Seeing some of the images and hearing the stories it's hard not to think of my own assault," he admitted. "This job's always been hard, but -"

"- Now it's even more personal?" she finished.

"Yes." He licked his lips, unsure of how to say everything else running through his mind at that moment.

"Well, if it helps any, you've yet to scream and terrorize a victim," she said. "I wasn't exactly delicate in my dealings with the victims my first case back."

He gave her a small smile. "Oh, I remember. I actually joined you all in the field that case if memory serves."

"It does," she acknowledged. "I snapped at you and got in the car slamming the door."

"To be fair, you had good reason," he said. "That was just a bad case in general."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Benson pushed her glass to this side, turning on her chair to face him. "Share a cab home?"

"Sure," he said. "I assure you I'm not walking home in -" He gestured to the windows where you could clearly see it was raining cats and dogs. “- _that_.”

She went to take out her wallet, intending to pay, but Rafael put his hand out, stopping her. "No, this one’s on me, Liv,” he said. "One of us has a babysitter on call, and I'm fairly certain it ain't me."

She chuckled. "Be careful or you might lose your feminist icon status."

He rolled his eyes, knowing she was simply teasing him. "The horror. How shall I survive such a loss?"

She rolled her eyes in response, but there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was unmistakable. "Sarcastic asshole."

A small smirk graced his lips. "I hope you're not just realizing that,” he teased. “Here I thought you were a much better detective than that.”

She swatted him on the arm playfully. “Like I said, my best friend’s an ass.”


	20. In the Heights

The next three weeks passed without any fanfare. He'd only had a couple of sleepless nights, but managed to get an appointment with his therapist and use some of the techniques that he'd been taught. It wasn't perfect, but he'd been able to shake most of the feelings enough to actually get some sleep and made sure to eat properly, which seemed to help his state of mind drastically.

He had briefly felt like cutting a couple of days back, but had forced himself to distract himself, to get some air, and the feeling thankfully passed by the time twenty minutes later rolled around.

Work was going much the way it usually did, and he and Benson, although she'd also decided she'd like to try out a relationship, were deliberately taking it slow. Not much had changed there, although they flirted a bit more and she was a bit more tactile - in as much as Rafael would allow, as he still wasn't the most comfortable with physical affection.

They'd gone out for a small dinner, before going to see a show that Rafael had managed to get them tickets to: _Hamlet_. She'd never seen it, and they'd been talking and she'd mentioned that she would like to. She'd read it in English class, but never got to see it.

He grinned as he recalled her reaction to him leaving to go see Hamilton. It was during the early part of the Sister Nina and Father Eugene mess that had transpired several years earlier. Neither of them had said anything stupid at that point, although that blame was mostly on him. As such, they'd still been on rather good terms at that point, despite all of the stress.

" _Good luck," he said, giving her his signature smirk, with his eyes still on the interrogation that was happening._

_"Wait?" She glanced at him, taking her attention away from the interrogation room momentarily. "Where are you going?"_

_"Theatre." He turned towards her, facing her more directly now. "Text me if you make sense of this mess before Burr kills Hamilton."_

_He started walking away, but heard her heave a sigh as he did so. "Send them my love!"_

Making their way out the theatre, they took a left, heading towards Benson's car.

They were still chatting about the show when he turned to her to ask her about her plans for the rest of the evening. "You up for a nightcap?" he asked.

She never got a chance to reply, as her phone went off. Giving him a slightly apologetic look she answered the call. "Benson. Okay. Yeah, I'm on my way."

When she got off the phone, he didn't waste any time in speaking up. "Where to, Liv? I'll join you." It wasn't extremely common for him to go to crime scenes, but he still did it from time to time.

"Fin actually suggested you should," Benson replied. "Don't ask me why, but I assume we'll find out when we get there."

He nodded, curiosity definitely piqued.

Getting into her car, they drove to a little bodega near the outskirts of Washington Heights, where Fin and several unis where waiting.

"Liv, Counsellor," Fin said. "Sorry to break up your date."

Benson waved it off. "It's fine."

"Detective Carter and I took this from patrol," one of the officers said. "Our sergeant suggested SVU would be better equipped to handle a lost kid."

"In other words, he passed the buck," Benson said. "Not the first time."

Rafael didn't miss the amused look Fin gave at that jibe but was clearly reminded of the disaster with the Ozunas.

"Fair enough," the second officer said.

"So, what do we know if anything?" Benson inquired.

"Nothing," the officer said. "Not even a name. The kid speaks Spanish, I think. He walked in here all by himself."

So, that's why Fin wanted him there. Benson did speak Spanish extremely well, but if there was any room for miscommunication and things went sideways her testimony would be challenged in court. Rafael's would be a lot harder to challenge because no defence attorney would bother to argue Rafael didn't speak Spanish just to make a point. The premise would be laughed out of court within minutes.

"No parents?" Benson asked.

The officer sighed. "No."

Rafael walked over to the, clearly Latino, little boy, who was wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue shirt and a pair of runners. "Hola, Amiguito. Me llamo Rafael. ¿Podemos hablar?" (Hi, Buddy. I'm Rafael. Can we talk?)

The boy clearly hesitated but nodded his consent after a moment.

He gave the boy what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "¿Crees que podrías decirme tu nombre? (Do you think you could tell me your name?)

"Soy Eddie," the boy said softly. (I'm Eddie.)

"Gracias, Eddie," he replied. He made sure to give the boy another reassuring smile, wanting to put him more at ease. "¿Sabes tu apellido?" (Thank you, Eddie. Do you know your last name?)

The reply came out in a mumble, but Rafael was able to just make it out and immediately turned to face the others. "Eduardo Jiménez."

"¿Cuántos años tienes?" Rafael asked. (How old are you?)

The boy put his hand up, holding up four fingers to show his age. "Cuatro años." (Four years old.)

Benson took a few steps forward, kneeling by the little boy. "¿Sabes dónde están tus padres?" (Do you know where your parents are?)

The boy looked hesitantly from Benson to Rafael. Eddie then shook his head in the negative, tears starting to fall. "Quiero mami." (I want mami.)

"Lo sé, amiguito mío," Rafael said softly. "¿Cómo has llegado hasta aquí?" (I know, my little friend. How did you get here?)

"Caminé," the boy said simply. "Papi me dejó en casa de mami. Ella no estaba en casa. Yo quería buscarla." (I walked. Papi dropped me off at mami's. She wasn't home. I wanted to find her.)

Rafael dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Tus padres están separados?" (Your parents are separated?)

"Sí." (Yes.)

The two officers and detective all looked at the pair. The first officer spoke up. "Care to translate for the Spanish impaired here?"

He rolled his eyes. "He's four years old and his name is Eduardo Jiménez," Rafael explained. "I inquired as to how he got here. He said he walked. His father dropped him off at his mother's. She wasn't home. He wanted to go look for her. His parents are separated apparently."

"Okay," the second officer said. "We'll see if there are any missing person reports on that name. Maybe the mother called in when she got home."

"Hopefully," Rafael said. "What the hell was the father thinking?”

Benson sighed. "He clearly _wasn't_."

Well, that was a rather accurate assessment, to say the least.

"Is he hurt?" the second officer asked.

He relayed the question to the boy who responded with a resounding no. "He says he's not hurt. I think he's just shaken."

The first officer gave a curt nod. "You'll stay with him while we go track down the parents?" the man inquired.

"Yes," Benson said. "I don't think any of us mind, and it's probably best that the Spanish speakers stay with him."

"True," the first officer said, chuckling lightly. "We'll call you when we have something."

Fin spoke up. "We should get him checked out."

Benson nodded. They knew more than most that not all abuse left physical marks, and neglect if not full-on abuse could be just as bad. "He doesn't seem hurt, but I'll contact NewYork-Presbyterian."

Tonight was going to be a long night.


	21. ¡Que comemierda!

They were sitting with Eddie at the precinct after he'd been seen by a doctor, waiting for the kid's mother, Ana María Suárez, to make the trip down to them. She'd called a different Manhattan precinct to file a report immediately upon seeing her son was nowhere to be seen and the father wasn't there. That was after she'd tried to contact the father, however, having assumed they were possibly running late. They'd also managed to track down the aforementioned father.

The father, 26-year-old Miguel Jiménez, apparently had primary custody of the boy and went to drop him off at his mother's house. The mother hadn't been there, but assuming that the woman would be home in about five minutes, the man had decided that it was perfectly alright to just leave the boy there instead of calling or, god forbid, waiting a couple of minutes for her to actually walk through the front door.

Seriously, what was so important that he couldn't wait? Rafael didn't get it.

The man oddly seemed nice enough, so Rafael couldn't figure out of the man was just good at playing them and didn't give a damn or was just criminally stupid.

He was leaning more towards the latter, but either way, Rafael had quickly developed a rather low opinion of the younger man.

"¡Mi niño!" (My boy!)

Their attention was immediately pulled two the sound, and the boy got up from his chair and ran over to the lady who was presumably his mother. "¡Mami!"

The woman was smiling from ear to ear, evidently relieved to see the little boy. She'd clearly been worried. "¿Todo bien, Papito?" (Everything ok, Papito?)

The boy hugged his mother tightly. "Sí, Mami." The boy nodded as much as he could as close to her as he was. "¿Dónde estabas?" (Yes, Mami. Where were you?)

"Necesitaba ir a la tienda," the mother explained gently. She looked at the boy right in the eyes. "Pero, por favor, nunca vuelvas a hacer eso. Estaba muy, muy preocupada, Papito." She hugged him tightly once more once she was sure he'd understood. (I had to go to the store. But, please, never do that again. I was so, so worried, Papito.)

"Lo siento, Mami." (Sorry, Mami.)

The scene playing out before them was both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. It just solidified Rafael's opinion that Miguel was one of the biggest idiots he'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

"You must be Ana María," Benson said, offering the woman her hand. "I'm Lieutenant Olivia Benson. And this is ADA Rafael Barba. We spoke on the phone."

"I am," the woman confirmed. "I'm glad you found him. I'd gone to a bodega for all of five seconds to grab something." She sighed and was clearly still a bit frazzled. "I can't believe Miguel just left him. _¡Que comemierda!"_

Benson ignored the slight outburst that was, frankly, well warranted. "You'd mentioned you'd been fighting to get full custody of Eddie?" she inquired instead.

"Yes," Ms. Suárez replied. "We have shared custody, but, for financial reasons, Miguel has primary. I'm much more stable now though, and my lovely ex-boyfriend keeps pulling stupid stunts."

"Such as?" Benson asked.

"He's always showing up late, just not using common sense... little things." She shook her head. "He's not a bad father, but..."

Benson nodded. "We get it."

"You'll have to deal with ACS," Rafael said, "but baring everything goes smoothly you should have your son home tonight even."

Benson gestured to the two social workers waiting at one of the desks off to the side. "They'll want to talk to you, but it's just procedure. I don't see there being any issues with you taking your son home. Miguel's not so lucky, however."

"He's facing charges of attempted abandonment of a child," Rafael explained, "as well as attempted endangering the welfare of a child, Sra. Suárez."

Ms. Suárez sighed but nodded. "Bueno, maybe he'll actually get his shit together."

Rafael raised an eyebrow at that but didn't comment.

They were at the precinct for another hour and a half, playing with the boy in the interview room while the ACS workers did their jobs and Fin ran to McDonald's to get the kid some chicken nuggets and fries and a drink because they weren't counting on the father having actually been intelligent enough to make sure his son had dinner.

"¿Puedo tomar ketchup, por favor?" (Can I have ketchup, please?)

Rafael gave the boy a small smile. "Claro, Eddie." (Sure, Eddie.)

He opened a few of the ketchup packets for Eddie who put them on his plate and went back to munching his food happily for another moment or so. He then looked up at Benson and himself. "¿Cuándo puedo ver a mi papi?" (When can I see my papi?)

Benson looked at the boy. "No por un tiempo." (Not for a while.)

The boy bit his lip. "¿Está mi papi en problemas?" (Is my papi in trouble?)

Both adults sighed and looked between each other, but it was Benson who took the lead in answering. "Tu papá cometió un gran error." (Your dad made a big mistake.)

The little boy seemed to consider that for a moment. "¿Está él en penitencia? Mami a veces me pone en penitencia cuando hago algo malo." (Is he in time-out? Mami sometimes puts me in time-out when I do something bad.)

He gave the boy a sad smile. "Algo así, Amiguito." (Something like that, Buddy.)

"¿Por cuanto tiempo?" Eddie asked, clearly a little sad. (For how long?)

Rafael sighed. "Aún no lo sabemos." (We don't know yet.)

The boy nodded but didn't speak again until after he'd finished his food.

Finally, the mother came to get Eddie and take him home, and with Miguel already processed they were able to go home for the night and try and get some sleep, leaving the rest of the mess to be dealt with on Monday.

After saying goodbye to Fin, Benson had immediately offered to give Rafael a lift home, which he rather appreciated.

Benson looked at him as he was taking off his seatbelt just outside of his apartment building. "So, rain check on that nightcap?"

He chuckled. "I already assumed that would be the case a couple of hours ago, but I will hold you to that."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "I'm counting on it, actually."

He leaned over, gently kissing the top of her head. "Go home and get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She hummed. "Join us for brunch?" she offered. "I know Noah would love to see you."

"Sure," he agreed. "I'll stop by a little after ten."

"Perfect," she said happily, squeezing his hand lightly as he started to actually get out of the car. "We'll see you tomorrow then."

He kissed her on the forehead again. "See you tomorrow, Liv."

Rafael tried to relax some before going to bed, but couldn't seem to shut his brain off when he actually tried to sleep no matter how hard he tried.

He ended up reading a book for a while to try and distract himself some. In the end, he didn't get all that much sleep. He tossed and turned for quite a while as a bunch of memories of his own father danced around his mind. When he did finally pass out, it was out of pure exhaustion.


	22. Just A Little Bit Crazy

The weekend seemed to fly by, and Monday morning a still rather sleepy Rafael had to force himself to get out of bed and get dressed. He showered, and threw on a suit, and knowing he needed to actually eat something, ate a bowl of bowl whole-grain Cheerios with milk and sliced banana in it.

He then double-checked his hair and ran to work, needing to finish getting ready for the Jiménez arraignment that morning.

Once that was over, and Jiménez's legal aid attorney immediately tried to cut a deal. He'd ended up making a counteroffer which the legal aid attorney had initially tried to refuse. Jiménez had made it clear he wanted to take the deal, however, knowing he'd royally screwed up and things were likely to go way worse for the man at trial.

All in all, the hearing hadn't taken too long, thankfully, and he was back in his office by a quarter to eleven, drawing up the papers to send to Jiménez's attorney before starting to manage some of his other files.

Carmen came to kick him out for lunch at noon, so he headed to Forlini's to grab a bite to eat and dealt with some work emails in between texting Eddie and his mother.

He'd only briefly been back at his office when he got called down to the precinct regarding a messy case they'd just caught.

The case involved teenager Sam Conway who, after a day of hunting with his father and brother - and a slightly traumatic shooting of a rabbit - had shown all the signs that he'd been raped. His gym coach, having spotted blood on his shorts, had immediately reported his concerns to the authorities.

Despite the SVU's attempts to get the boy to name his attacker, he was extremely reluctant to do so. The family wanted to believe his excuse that he fell. As the detectives dug deeper, things got murkier. Sam's brother, Brian, remained tight-lipped about everything, and Sam's father, John, was doing all he could to restrict his son. They eventually talked to Sam's girlfriend who said that Sam was supposed to meet her that night and when she called him, he sounded like he was in a bar. Sam also told her that he "became a man tonight."

Benson and Carisi spoke to the bartender who was able to identify a man that Sam was with that night, explaining that the pair left in an Uber. It wasn't the boy's father, so with more questions raised, they went to talk to the man. Gus Haverford, a senior VP at Morgan Stanley.

Haverford alleged that he didn't know Sam was fifteen. In interrogation, the man claimed he had the Uber take Sam home as he was messed up, and said he was trying to comfort the boy. Apparently Sam had seemed more worried about his brother and had been hysterical about a rabbit. He outlined that the kid seemingly didn't want to shoot the animal.

At that point, thinking that the brother was involved, Benson suggested Fin speak with Brian, away from his parents. Brian knew Sam had gotten drunk but he insisted nothing happened to him and became rather rattled when he thought that Fin believed the boy was gay.

It was frustrating because without corroboration the case was going nowhere.

Over the next few days, things were definitely taking a toll on the brothers. The school had had to call the detectives in to go deal with a fight between Brian and Sam at school. When the detectives were there, Brian tried to flee and as Benson and Carisi try to chase him, Olivia found she couldn't keep up, feeling much too out of breath.

Eventually, someone on a bike got knocked over by Brian and was, unfortunately, injured. This allowed Carisi to catch up and apprehend Brian.

"He really should have his parents with him," Rafael said.

"He's seventeen," Benson said, "and he hasn't asked for a lawyer."

"I won't argue the point," Rafael said, giving Benson a pointed look, "but do you really think he's going to confess to assaulting his younger brother?"

She sighed slightly. "I think that whatever is going on in that family, I think that Brian is drowning too. Maybe he's looking for a lifeline."

They both turned their attention to the window, watching Rollins and Fin question Brian about the hunting trip. Carisi was off talking to Sam and Molly.

"Maybe I should call my dad," Brian said.

"You don't really want your dad to hear what you're about to say, do you?" Fin said. The boy's thoughts were written on his face clear as day. "I didn't think so."

"Brian," Tamin said, "we want to help you."

"Yeah?" Brian said, gesturing to Fin. "He doesn't."

"I do," Fin countered. "I know there's things you don't want to talk about, right? Things you can't talk about, so let's start with the things you can talk about. Alright?"

"Look," Brian said, "I love Sam. I would never really hurt him."

"I see that," Rollins said. "He's your brother."

The boy nodded.

"I'm gonna ask you about this hunting trip this past weekend," Rollins said. "You and your dad go hunting together a lot?"

The boy nodded once more. "My dad, he shot a boar once. It was charging him. He could have been killed."

"Wow!" Fin said.

"Yeah," Rollins said, trying to look impressed, "how about that rabbit?"

"He had a clear shot," Brian said. "He could have -"

"You're his big brother, so you had to teach him a lesson, right?" Rollins suggested. "Is that why you did to Sam what you did and why you were beating up on him? To keep him quiet?"

Just then John arrived, cutting the interview short. The father then announced that Sam came out as gay that morning and they talked it out and they were good. They asked who the boy Sam had apparently met was, but Sam clearly had no idea. It was clearly made up. Watching John put words in Sam's mouth, it became abundantly clear that John had something to hide.

"We can all agree that that was a load of crap," Rollins said.

"Sam was drunk, met some guy in the woods? Fin sneered. "The father's protecting his older son."

"I already put a call into Child Protective Services," Benson said. "We got to get Sam out of that apartment. We got to get him away from Brian."

"I'll ask Family Court about an emergency order," Rafael said. "I'll keep you posted."

"Okay, but so now what?" Rollins asked. “We canvass friends, relatives? See if anybody knows anything?"

Fin gave her a pointed look. "Something like this, people don't want to know."

Rafael sighed, looking at them all. He knew from experience that a parent would willfully ignore abuse and that it was very unlikely that the adults in the household did not know what was going on in their own home. Whether they wanted to admit it or not. "The mother knows. Get her alone. Talk to her."

Benson gave them a sideways smile. "I have to agree. Go talk to her and see if you can get her to admit anything."

Rollins nodded, rummaging for her keys before Fin quipped that he was driving.

Once they were alone, Benson turned to him. "You okay, Rafa?"

He gave her a curt nod. "Yeah, Liv, I'm fine. It's far from being the first child-abuse case to come across my desk and it likely won't be the last."

"The cases with kids just..."

"Yeah," he said, heaving a sigh. "I know." And he did. Cases with children always hit the hardest, and neither Benson or himself had particularly great home lives growing up. Bringing their own share of baggage from that.

Rafael had been livid when, during the ACS trial after Keisha Houston's death, when Jeanette Grayson tried to justify not doing her job as a social worker. He had zero respect for caseworkers who didn't do their jobs, himself almost having been removed from his parents' custody as a child. The caseworker simply hadn't cared and listened to his parents' excuses. Rafael was clumsy. He'd gotten in a fight at school. They'd do better. It didn't matter that the excuses were flimsy at best and that nothing changed at home. That Rafael would be made to pay for the caseworker's interference because his father losing face was _his_ fault. Because Rafael was _clearly_ lying when he was telling the truth about not having told anyone what was going on at home.

"I _'m asked to do what the courts can't do," Ms. Grayson said, "what the cops can't do."_

_"You are asked to do your job," Rafael shot back._

_"Oh! God himself could not do this job!" Ms. Grayson exclaimed. "You want to judge me? You wouldn't last an hour in my world. And if I go, who's gonna be on the front lines?" She pointed to Rafael. "You?" She pointed towards someone else, but Rafael didn't quite catch who. "You?"_

She'd said it as though she was actually on the front lines _doing_ something besides ignoring innocent children who needed her help. And they wouldn't last an hour in her world? _They_ dealt with child-abuse cases constantly, and he had a better understanding of what went on behind the closed doors of an abusive home with an addict parent than that woman, sitting on her high-horse, ever would. Wouldn't last an hour in her world? She wouldn't have lasted ten minutes in his.

He squeezed Benson's shoulder. "You know where to find me if you need me."

She gave him a small smile. "Sidebar tonight?"

He nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."


	23. To Be A Man

He was sitting in the bar watching news coverage of the earlier shooting.

The Conway boys' mother had finally admitted to Benson that she witnessed her husband John raping her youngest - as punishment for not being enough of a man to shoot a rabbit during their recent hunting trip.

Benson and Carisi arrested John Conway, and Rafael took the case to trial.

Then things went sideways. Sam was clearly upset, but he testified that no one raped him and that he sustained the injuries during rough sex with a stranger.

It wasn't hard to tell that Sam was afraid of his father and Rafael pressed the kid on it while he was on the stand, but to no avail. The boy wouldn't name his father as his rapist, and the jury found John not guilty.

Then, traumatized, Sam brought his father's hunting rifle to school the next day and opened fire on his classmates, killing two of them and wounding five others.

Rafael's mind was running a mile a minute, everything that happened flooding his thoughts, as Benson approached him. "Your cell phone died?"

He rolled his eyes. "How do you always find me?"

She gave him a small smile. "I have my ways."

He raised an eyebrow and took a lucky guess. "Carmen?"

Benson chuckled. "You know we go way back."

He gave a snort. "I'd fire her if she wasn't the best assistant I ever had," he quipped. He was rather fond of Carmen and wouldn't consider it in a million years, but couldn't believe that the woman kept ratting him out.

"You punishing yourself?"

"Somebody has to." He sighed. "I might actually have to take this kid to trial." he glanced at her. "He pleaded not guilty."

"I heard," she informed him. "Remanded to Horizon Juvenile."

He nodded. "Suicide watch," he said, taking a swig of his drink. "You see, their lawyer will get a shrink, and then we will get a shrink then, round and round we'll go. It's completely careened out of control."

"Rafael," she tried to assure him, "this is _not_ your fault."

"I made the decision to cross-examine him," he said. "I could have stood up, and said, 'No questions, Your Honour.' I could have looked in that boy's eyes and seen how fragile he was, and damaged. I should have seen past the brave face, considered sparing him as much pain as possible. Instead, I just ignored it."

"Rafael," she said, "you were trying to save him."

"I didn't have to cross-examine him," he reiterated. He should've and could've found another way.

"Yes," she said pointedly, "you did."

"His father raped him, for God's sake!" Rafael said through clenched teeth. "And then I raped him all over again up on that witness stand."

_He'd just started the cross-examination, Counsellor Karey having just finished his questions for the boy. "What was that guy's name?"_

_"Um, I don't remember."_

_"That's odd," Rafael said. "Your first time, I think you'd remember everything."_

_"Well, nobody cares what you think, Counsellor."_

_"That's an objection?"_

_"Sustained."_

_"Tell me about the hunting trip."_

_"Okay, what about it?"_

_"Whatever you remember."_

_"Well, I remember it all."_

_"Right, because it was your first time," Rafael said. "The first time you went out in the woods with your dad, your brother, and a rifle. It was a big deal, kind of like the first time you had sex."_

_"Objection."_

_"My point is," Rafael said without preamble, "the witness remembers everything about his first hunting trip and nothing about the first time he had sex, and they happened on the same weekend."_

He was pulled out of his brief musings when Benson spoke again. "Like Nevada and Kressler did to you?"

He took a shaky breath, but nodded. There was no other way to describe how he'd felt during Kressler's cross-examination of him.

"You did the right thing, Rafa," she said. "And, if you ask me, Sam's a lot tougher than you think."

"Every aspect, every moment of his life, open to dissection," he said, "while John Conway, he's just sitting over there. He's smiling on the sidelines, waxing poetic about what it means to be a man."

"So use that," Benson told him. "Figure out a way to get him into the game."

He took another swig of his drink. "Hmmm. So, enough about my lovely day. How are you doing, Liv?"

"You know, Rafa," she said. "I'm a mom and a cop. That's it. That's who I am."

"That's more than most," he said. His personal claim to fame was being a rape victim and lawyer. He barely knew who he was without the job.

"And what happens when I wake up in the morning and I can't do one of those things?" she said. "Does that make me half the person that I was the night before?"

"Well, excuse me for being redundant," he said, "but you're still more than most."

"That's very nice of you to say," she told him, "but the fact of the matter is, the truth is, I got winded at work. I was chasing Brian Conway and I had to stop. I was so out of breath." She shook her head slightly. "And now an innocent woman who was riding her bike has a broken leg because of me."

"Liv," he said, giving her a small smile, "no one expects you to be Wonder Woman."

"I do," she said. "But life and time happened." She chuckled. "I mean, what can you do?" He gave her a small smile, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. "No one expects you to be Superman."

"I do." He shook his head, a sardonic laugh leaving leaving his throat. "Don't we make quite a pair."

She gave him a lopsided smile. "That we do, Rafa. That we do."

He didn't sleep much that night but was ready to go when he walked into work two mornings later, fully intending the decimate the father on the stand as he successfully got an indictment to have him arrested for negligent homicide.

"I loved my boys the same," John said. "I treated them the same."

"You were tough on both of them?"

"I was firm with them when I had to be," the man said. "Whatever I did, it was for their own good. So they'd be strong. So the world wouldn't chew them up and spit them out. Look, when your son is born, nobody hands you an instruction book. You do what you think is right."

"Such as?" Rafael inquired.

"The thing is," Conway said, "I know a lot of dads who are so tired when they get home from work, all they can do is get out of their suits and sit in front of the tube." The man leaned forward slightly. "Not me. No matter how tired I was, I always went to the park, tossed a ball with my boys. I went to their games, whatever. Yes, I took them fishing and hunting. That's what my dad did for me. That's what I do for them.” The man shook his head slightly. “I'm still waiting for someone to tell me why it's wrong to want your boys to grow up to be men."

"Good men?" Rafael replied pointedly. 

"What?" Conway asked.

"Most fathers would say is they want their sons to grow up to be good men," Rafael said. "Good. Bad. That doesn't seem to matter to you."

"Of course I want them to be good men."

"A good man plays sports?"

"Both my boys made varsity," Conway said. "Teaches teamwork, self-confidence."

"A good man shoots rabbits?" Rafael asked in disbelief.

"He sure as hell isn't afraid to," the man said. "You don't have a boy do you, Mr. Barba?"

"No, I don't," Rafael admitted.

Conway eyed him. "Then you got a lot of nerve criticizing how I raise mine."

Rafael smirked. "You mean I've got balls."

"Objection!"

"It's okay, Jed. I got this," Conway said. "As a matter of fact, if we weren't in a courtroom, that is exactly what I would have said."

"As opposed to what?" Rafael questioned, a self-satisfied smirk still playing on his face as he continued with the line of questioning.

"Excuse me?" Conway inquired.

He stepped forward slightly. "If I don't have balls, what do I have?" He gave Conway and the jury a pointed look. "I'd have the lifelong shame of a boy who could never live up to his father's perverse idea of manhood, isn't that right, John?" Not that Rafael couldn't relate. His father had said some of the same things while he was growing up and always said that Rafael needed to toughen up. To be a man.

"Your Honour!" the defence attorney objected.

"Mr. Barba," the judge said in a warning tone.

Rafael ignored the comment. "I'd be a little girl, wouldn't I, Mr. Conway? And there's nothing in the world worse than that, is there?"

"That's enough, Mr. Barba," the judge chastised.

It wasn't long before the judge called a recess, and he and the squad went to Forlini's for lunch as he would have to be back in court before long.

The testimony hadn't gotten the results he wanted, so while they were chatting he told Benson he was going to call Sam to the stand as a rebuttal witness. Use the boy to rehabilitate. The boy was already going to jail for most of his life, as is. The situation couldn't get worse.

"Of course I loved him," Sam said.

"And you tried to make him proud of you?" Rafael prodded.

"Yeah,” the boy murmured. 

"Why?" he inquired.

"'Cause he was my dad.”

"You wanted to make him happy," Rafael stated simply.

"Yeah," the boy admitted. "What's wrong with that?"

"Not a thing," he assured the boy, "if it makes you happy, too." He paused. "Did it?"

"Look, if he was happy, I was happy."

"What if he wasn't?" He gave the boy a pointed look. "This is important, Sam. How did your father act if he wasn't happy with you?"

The boy looked a bit torn but spoke firmly. "He'd call me names."

"Like what?"

"He'd call me a baby."

"What else?"

"He'd say, um -"

"What else?"

"He'd say... he'd say I was a fag or a pussy, okay?"

"Like when you couldn't shoot the rabbit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right."

"So, he wasn't proud of you then?"

"No. No, he said, 'Until further notice', I was 'a little girl,'" the boy admitted. "Called me 'Samantha.' Threw one of my mom's dresses at me, told me to wear it."

"Did he hit you?"

"No," Sam said. "He said I deserved it, though. But he would 'never hit a girl.'"

"So, what did he do?"

"Objection!" Karey called out. "This has already been litigated."

"Nice try, Mr. Barba," the judge said. "The objection is sustained."

Rafael sighed but spoke deliberately when he asked the next question. 'In that moment, before you shot your schoolmates, what were you thinking?"

The boy's reply was inaudible.

"Speak up if you would, Sam."

"Be a man!" Sam said, much louder, his anger slipping through. "A voice in my head kept saying, 'Be a man! Be a man!' Over and over again. Be a man!" He looked right at his father, voice rising slightly. "How's that, Dad? I didn't flinch!" The boy leaned forward some. "Am I a man now? Huh?"

Jed Karey's closing speech wasn't exactly moving, but Rafael was a touch concerned that the jury wouldn't make the leap he needed them to and Karey got a few more jurors on his side. "Did John tell his son to shoot up the school? No, he didn't. Did he put the gun in his hand? Didn't do that either. Did he stand by and watch as Sam pulled the trigger? Sorry, he was at his office in another borough. If we're gonna start making parents liable for the independent acts of their kids, we better all start losing weight, because there's going to be a tight squeeze in Attica."

Rafael stood up, readjusting his tie as he did so. He looked directly at the jury, jaw set, as he strutted into the middle of the room. "Men are strong. They're the hunters, the fighters. The spear-throwers, the sword-swingers, the gunslingers. They sit in bars and they toss back shots, regaling other men with tales of their sexual conquests. That's what makes them masculine, that's what makes them men." He paused, putting more of a deadpan expression on. "You get in a fistfight? That's okay. It'll make you a man. You grab a little ass? Hey, that's what men do. But what if you cry? Or show empathy? Or, God forbid, you can't shoot a little rabbit? Well, I'm sorry, you just don't deserve to be my son. The problem is, Sam is John's son. The problem is, Sam just wanted to make his father proud. The problem is, Mr. Conway wasn't preaching strength. He was preaching power over others, and that's not being a man." Some of his anger seeped through audibly at that last comment. "That's being a criminal."

He was relieved when the jury came back with a verdict several hour later. Sitting in his office, twiddling his thumbs, was doing nothing good for his slightly frayed nerves at the moment.

When they'd come back after only three hours, he'd expected to hear them say they were deadlocked.

The judge looked towards the jury. "Have you reached a verdict?"

The jury foreman dipped his head slightly. "We have."

"How do you find?"

"On the sole count of the indictment Criminally Negligent Homicide," the jury foreman said, "we find the defendant, John Conway, guilty."

"Take the defendant into custody," the judge said, and the sound of handcuffs clicking was like music to Rafael's ears.

As they were walking out of court, Benson stopped him. "Good work back there."

He gave her a sad smile. "Just had to open the door."

"Want some company tonight?" she inquired, knowing the case had gotten to him.

"I don't think I'm going to get much sleep honestly," he said, "I'm not the greatest company right now."

"Funnily enough," she said, giving him a sideways smile, "I don't care."


	24. Familia

Thankfully, the next several days went a lot better than the previous few had, and after an emergency session with Dr. Lindstrom, Rafael was finally starting to feel like he could actually breathe again. _Starting_ being the operative word.

Being recognized when he walked into a bodega the other day for being 'that lawyer dude who said he was raped' definitely hadn't helped anything. He'd just put what he was buying back and left, having no desire to deal with it.

He'd spent Friday evening with the Bensons and then spent most of Saturday morning giving Eddie a hand with some repairs around his apartment, as it really _did_ need work done. He'd thought he'd be able to relax then once that was done, but his mother called him a bit frantically because she had some issues come up and was rather noticeably stressed out.

He'd checked out the problem in person, had to run to the store to buy some supplies, and came back to lunch ready for him. They sat and talked for a while over lunch, and then they set to work, trying to get the repairs done by a decent hour. Well, more like he was doing most of the work and she was giving her unsolicited opinion on it in between entertaining two of her girlfriends who were over in the other room. The two women in question, Juana and Beatriz, were very good friends of his mothers and had been since before Rafael was born.

He was glad when the plumbing issue was fixed and he was able to finally get started on dealing with the damaged tile grout in the bathroom, which had taken a bit longer than he'd hoped as it really wasn't his strong suit.

When he was almost done with the repairs, all he could smell was dinner. Chicken Fricassee with white rice, fried sweet plantains, yucca with mojo sauce and a Cuban-style avocado salad. A recipe he knew had been handed down from his abuelita.

His mother loved any excuse to cook, and he wasn't about to complain. She was a phenomenal cook, just as her mother had been.

He quickly finished up and put the tools away before washing up and going to join everyone while he waited for dinner to be finished cooking. He couldn't do anything for another three hours anyway.

It wasn't long before dinner was served and they all sat around chatting, more than a fair amount of coffee going around.

"Bueno, tu mamá me dice que finalmente tienes novia, Papito." Beatriz gave him a pointed look as she said it. (So, your mom tells me that you finally got yourself a girlfriend, Papito.)

He rolled his eyes, neither surprised that his mother had mentioned it, nor that the women were latching onto that topic. It was just _so_ typical. "Sí, tía. Se llama Olivia." (Yes, Aunty. Her name is Olivia.)

"La he visto dos veces ahora," his mother explained. "Ella realmente es una mujer encantadora." She smirked slightly. " _Y_ ella tiene mucha personalidad." (I've met her twice now. She really is a lovely woman. _And_ she has quite the personality.)

He gave his mother a look somewhere between irritated, amused, and indulgent. " ¿Y qué quieres decir con eso?" (And what is that supposed to mean?)

His mother smiled. "Solo que ella te mantiene alerta," she said. "Ella es buena para ti." (Just that she keeps you on your toes. She's good for you.)

He had to give her that. "Hmm."

"¿Cómo se conocieron?" Juana inquired. (How did you two meet?)

"Nos conocimos a través del trabajo. Ella es una teniente de policía," he explained easily. "Cuando me trasladé de la oficina del Fiscal de Distrito de Brooklyn a Manhattan, comenzamos a trabajar juntos." (We met each other through work. She's a police lieutenant. When I transferred from King's County D.A's Office to Manhattan we started working together.)

"Y sintió algo por ella desde el principio," his mother added without missing a beat. "Tanto yo como mi mamá lo sabíamos." (And he felt something for her from rather early on. Both I and my mom knew it.)

"¡Mami!" he whined.

"¿Qué?" she said. "Es verdad." He rolled his eyes, but she merely continued. "Me hablarías de tu día e inevitablemente se centraría en ella. Cada vez. No fue difícil darse cuenta." (What? It's true. You would tell me about your day and would inevitably focus on her. Every single time. It wasn't hard to notice.)

Well, she did have a point, even if he didn't particularly like having it pointed out by her. Again. "No discutiré con eso." (I won't argue with that.)

Beatriz shook her head, clearly more than a little amused by the situation. "Cuéntanos un poco sobre ella, Rafi." (Tell us a bit about her, Rafi.)

Rafael didn't need to think much. "Ella es muy comprensiva," he said, "pero también muy dura. No querrás estar en su lado malo si puedes evitarlo. Como mencioné antes, ella se convirtió en teniente hace un tiempo; una promoción que fue bien ganada. Es un poco adicta al trabajo, no muy diferente a mí, pero tiene un hijo pequeño llamado Noah, a quien ella es extremadamente devota." (She's deeply sympathetic, but also tough as nails. You don't want to get on her bad side if you can help it. As I mentioned early, she became a lieutenant a while back; a promotion that was well earned. She's a bit of a workaholic, not unlike myself, but has a young son named Noah who she is extremely devoted to.)

"Y ella te vuelve loco," his mother quipped. (And she drives you crazy.)

He rolled his eyes. "Nunca me dejarás olvidar que dije eso, ¿verdad, Mami?" (You're never going to let me forget saying that, are you, Mami?)

"No," his mother informed him, chuckling. "Nunca." (Never.)

"¿Cuántos años tiene su hijo?" Juana asked. (How old is her son?)

"Cinco años," he replied. (Five years old.)

"¿Es ella de la ciudad?" Beatriz prodded. "¿Es ella católica? Necesitas una buena chica católica." (Is she from the city? Is she catholic? You need a good catholic girl.)

He shook his head in a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Bien, bien. Todos ustedes se divirtieron. ¿Podemos hablar de algo que ahora no es mi vida amorosa? Por favor." (Alright, alright. You've all had your fun. Can we talk about something that's not my love life now? Please.)

His mother just laughed, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Algunas cosas nunca cambian." (Some things never change.)


	25. Pesadillas

_"You're only good for taking cock." Trujillo pounded into him harder and harder, and it felt to Rafael that the nightmare was taking forever. He hadn't been prepared particularly well either, so there was a definite burn coming from his backside._

_"N-n-no," he said shakily. "That's n-n-not true."_

_He hit Rafael's prostate causing another moan of pleasure mixed with humiliation. Trujillo just laughed. "And yet you're getting off on this. You want this, and we both know it." Another moan escaped Rafael's lips as the kingpin expertly turned Rafael's own body against him. "Me deseas." (You want me.)_

_Rafael laid there, not being able to do anything but just take it. He hated how absolutely helpless and out of control he felt. He didn't like not having any control._

_"Beg. Beg for me like the whore you are," Trujillo ordered as he yanked Rafael by his hair to meet every thrust he gave the humiliated lawyer._

_Rafael shook his head in refusal and Trujillo tightened his grip on Rafael to the point where it hurt and Rafael was squirming slightly. "Dije que suplicara." (I said to beg.)_

_"Por favor," he whimpered pathetically. He just wanted this all to be over. It felt like the violation was never going to end. (Please.)_

_"Such a good little slut," Trujillo jeered, pleased that he was getting to him. The man didn't slow his pace any. "Dime, Abogado, ¿cómo se siente ser penetrado por un hombre de verdad?" (Tell me, Counsellor, how does it feel to be taken by a real man?)_

_Rafael whimpered as a fair amount of pressure was placed on his throat, forcing him to say what Trujillo wanted him to. The words feeling like a knife to the heart.  
_

Rafael jolted awake, his green eyes shot open, and his mouth followed suit to give voice to a scream that refused to come. His hands were shaking and he could feel his stomach flipping, about to heave.

Despite his best efforts, he didn't make it to the bathroom in time, and his thoughts pounded in his skull in unison with his rather frantic heartbeat.

He cleaned up the mess as best as he could and rinsed his mouth out with water, desperately trying to remove the taste of vomit and the even worse taste of something else, something sticky and thick and white, even if it _was_ just in his memories. It didn't help, though. It never did.

He took a couple of shaky breaths, trying to ignore the feeling he still had of hands roaming his body and the sense of nausea still overwhelming him.

When it finally didn't feel like he was going to be sick again, he picked up his phone and dialled the number he knew by heart, taking a seat on the couch.

It took several rings and the voice on the other end sounded half-asleep, _but_ they answered, groggy as they might be. "Hey, hermano. Rough night?"

"Sí, Eddie," he admitted. "Sorry, I know it's late." He'd considered calling Benson but had settled on his childhood best friend.

"Hey, don't you dare apologize!" Eddie told him, firmly but not unkindly. "I've always got your back, Rafi. Tú lo sabes." (You know that.)

"Lo sé," he said, a small smile, despite the tears running down his face. (I know.)

"Did you want to talk about it?" Eddie asked softly.

He didn't. He really didn't. He didn't really know _what_ he wanted though. He just knew that he needed Eddie; he was always Rafael's protector, always the one to right what was wrong. Ever since they were little.

"Okay," Eddie said, not pushing him. "If you change your mind, I'll listen. Pero, since I've got you, you'll never believe what Seb did yesterday. He -"

As his friend started to tell the rather amusing story, Rafael smiled, knowing exactly what Eddie was doing. Distracting Rafael. As they continued to talk, Rafael found himself relaxing, eventually dozing off into a peaceful sleep.

He woke up, a slight crick in his neck, but felt better than he had the day before, despite the rather awkward sleeping position. He was getting too old to be passing out on the couch.

He got up, had a quick shower, shaved, threw a suit on and had breakfast before grabbing his briefcase and heading to 1 Hogan Place.

He had a meeting before having to run to court, where he spent most of the day trying a domestic violence case between a teenager and her step-father.

The first day of the trial hadn't gone as well as he would've liked, but he felt he'd be able to undo most of the damage the following day.

The step-father was blaming the girl, saying she was troubled and acting out, and the girl was putting the blame on the father.

Nothing surprising, except for the fact that the step-father _had_ crossed a line and the step-daughter definitely was acting out and temperamental, lending some credence to the step-father and mother's accusations.

Nonetheless, the trial was going fine until the sixteen-year-old lost her cool in the courtroom, snapping at a question she was asked. The only saving grace was that it could have been worse, and she was a teenager. The judge giving some slight leniency due to her being a child.

When court was done just after two o'clock, he headed back to his office to manage his other files and get ready for another meeting he had at four o'clock.

One of the other ADAs made a comment that threw him off balance when he was walking up to his office, and despite his best efforts, he struggled to really focus on his work most of the afternoon.

Knowing he wasn't going to be any good like that, he went for a walk, stopped by a nearby café, and decided to stop by the 1-6 to see if they could update him on any of the cases, getting some fresh air at least. He really just needed out of his office for a while and didn't trust himself not to screw up the paperwork due to a lack of focus.

He really needed a break.


	26. The Rain Keeps Falling

The first half of Rafael's day had gone reasonably well in most respects. He'd spent the previous night at the Bensons and ended up helping Noah make pancakes for breakfast, which had been fun.

He'd then had a quick meeting that morning before he had to go to court, where he had spent the next few hours until Rafael requested a recess. The recess had been swiftly granted, unsurprisingly to him, due to new video evidence that had come up while court was in session, having been notified by the detectives a short fifteen minutes prior to his being due back in court following lunch.

He'd reviewed the video footage from the witness's cell phone that had been collected with 16th's SVU and discussed what that meant for the case before Rafael headed back to his office to do some more trial preparation and play catch up with his files.

He'd been managing his files for only a couple of hours when he'd heard a knock on the door and Casey Novak walked in, saying that they needed to talk.

What do you mean? ' _He's moving to appeal.'"_ Rafael said icily. He did not like what he was hearing in the slightest. Of course, Nevada Ramírez wasn't remotely likely to win an appeal, especially given the passage of time between the verdict and the present moment, but none the less, the thought alone made him sick. "Based on what?"

Novak sighed. "Ineffective assistance of counsel and plain error. He's claiming unproven allegations were used to prejudice the jury against him, a vendetta, and that he should have been charged with witness tampering, at most, not sexual assault."

His jaw was set, frowning. "A lot of which he spewed at trial."

"I know."

"Why now?" he growled out, not actually asking Novak the question, but giving voice to the question regardless. A feeling of utter hopelessness had risen up from the very depths of his mind, and it felt like he was back in that car all over again; Trujillo's eyes mocking him and tearing him into tiny pieces.

The other attorney looked at him. "I'd like to know that as well. He'd filed earlier. but the Court of Appeals is just now agreeing to hear his case. But, I don't think we have anything to be worried about. He has a weak case and everything was done by the book. But, Rafael, I have to tell you -"

He gave the other attorney a curt nod. "That it's unpredictable. You never know."

Novak nodded. "Exactly. I don't know. Nobody knows."

Words he'd said himself on more than one occasion. Rafael wanted to run from the room, a sense of feel trapped coming over him. He wanted to cry. He felt nauseous. He needed out. He needed air. As he watched the door close behind the Novak, he started pacing around the office, mind racing a mile a minute. _This is a bad nightmare._

And then he felt it, his stomach flipping, and bolted to the bathroom down the hall, getting there just in time to avoid an even more humiliating situation.

"Did you just throw up?" Carmen asked, seeing him still drying his face as he finally walked out of the bathroom.

"No," he said quickly. She gave him a look of concern with disbelief. "Yeah."

"Take a break if you need it," she said. "I'll cover for you with the D.A."

He shook his head. "I'm fine." He gestured vaguely with his right hand. "I'm fine."

She looked at him doubtfully but didn't push it.

Closing his office door behind him, he took a few deliberate breaths and sat down at his desk, trying to get more work done so he could leave sooner rather than later. He didn't want to let himself really fall behind or he'd never catch up.

The rest of the afternoon passed in quite a blur as Rafael deliberately tried to tune everything out, throwing himself fully into his work, not wanted to think about the earlier news. It was a relief, however, when he stepped out of the District Attorney's Office just after six o'clock, the fresh air hitting him. He breathed in deeply and glanced around before heading down the street, wanting to take a walk before he went home. Not having any desire to be bothered at the moment, he turned his phone on vibrate before slipping it back into his pocket.

He walked around for about twenty minutes to a half-hour before he found himself walking into a pub, desperately wanting a drink, his phone going off intermittently.

He downed the two glasses of scotch way quicker than he should've before he sighed, pulling out his phone to check the time. He had dozens of notifications, two of which were missed calls. He ignored them, shoving his phone in his pocket and getting the bartender's attention.

"Another glass?"

Rafael nodded at the man. "Make it a double."

Everything was easier to ignore earlier when he had his work to throw himself into as a distraction, but he couldn't get it off his mind.  
 _  
"Everyone heals in their own time and in their own way. The path isn't always a straight line, and you don't need to go it alone. Don't push your friends away."_ Dr. Lindstrom had told him that during one of their sessions when Rafael said something akin to beating himself up for not simply 'getting over it.' He couldn't remember his exact words, but that's what it boiled down to. He _did_ remember the psychiatrist's words, however, and knew he was decidedly pushing them away, probably worrying them if all of the texts and missed calls were anything to go by, but pushed the thought aside, not being able to bring himself to care enough to stop and send a message so that they weren't worried.

"Here you go," the bartender said, placing his new drink in front of him, Rafael immediately picking it up and placing the tumbler to his lips, relishing the slight burn as the amber liquid went down.

He couldn't go threw another trial if by chance Trujillo _did_ win the appeal. Yet, the thought of the man being free put his stomach in knots instantly. He couldn't go through _that_ again. He couldn't.

He lost track of how many drinks he had that night by the time he left and found himself stumbling out of the taxi back at his apartment building.

He managed to make it most of the way to the door but almost fell down as he climbed the small set of steps to the entranceway.

It took him a minute to realize why he hadn't fallen. To realize that someone had a rather strong grip on his arm and was supporting him. He glanced to his side and wasn't sure how he felt about who was keeping him upright. He didn't want her to see him like this, but still... "Liv -"

She gave him a sad smile. "Phone dead?"

"Sorry, I didna mean to... Casey, she visit...visited. Bad news about Ramír... Ramírez." Rafael hiccoughed, but it didn't really phase him.

If Rafael had been more himself, he might have noticed that his slurred speech, the fact that he'd clearly been drinking, didn't seem to surprise her. "I know. Let's get you inside first, Hun, hmmm? We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Hmmm, okay."


	27. One Step Forward, One Step Back

To say that Rafael woke up with a shameful hangover would be a gross understatement. He'd felt absolutely horrible all day, reminding himself once again why he really should not drink that excessively.

And that was _with_ the medication that Benson gave him to take first thing that morning when he'd woken up on her couch.

She'd also grabbed his phone, dialled Dr. Lindstrom's number, and firmly passed it to him, not giving Rafael much in the way of choice regarding an emergency meeting. He didn't fight her on it and had gone to therapy after work that day, the man being able to fit Rafael into his last slot for the day.

He might have ordinarily been mad at her interference if a larger part of him wasn't actually thankful that she'd gone so out of her way. He should've called himself, and probably would've eventually, but it would've been after a couple more days of him feeling absolutely miserable.

The session had helped some, but he still couldn't shake all of the anxiety. Thankfully, three days later Novak came by to tell Rafael that the Court of Appeals had denied the motion to appeal on several grounds.

When he heard that, he let out a breath that he didn't even know that he'd been holding. It was more of a relief than he could even put into words.

Over the next several weeks, he feel back into a routine again, relaxing more. He'd gone out for lunch with Eddie, which had been nice. They'd gone to Victor's Café and just talked and joked around.

His medical appointments were also going well for the most part, thankfully. He'd admittedly been slightly concerned, given all the stress lately, but he did try and eat healthy for the most part and tried to be active. Still, he spent an awful lot of time sitting in an office dealing with reports and research, among other things.

He also found himself spending even more time at the Bensons during the evenings or taking the city by storm with them on the weekends which he tended to split between them and his mother.

This past Saturday, however, had been interesting as Rollins joined them at The American Museum of Natural History with her daughter, and Carisi. Rafael honestly suspected something was going on between them, but both gave a categorical denial when Benson lightly hinted at the possibility.

The kids seemed to enjoy themselves and the adults kept fielding question after question from them, which Rafael actually enjoyed. Noah was a rather bubbly kid, and Jesse, although slightly more reserved, much like her mother, was honestly a sweet kid as well.

It also helped that Rafael loved to talk and spewing off facts was one of the snotty, know-it-all, kid from the South Bronx's favourite pastimes. Even if letting his mouth run had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion.

He loved history though. History, Science, and Spanish Literature were his favourite subjects in school, something that hadn't changed even in adulthood.

Then then all grabbed lunch, and let the kids do some running around before they all went their separate ways, Rafael going back to the Bensons for a boardgames and movie night.

"Pizza for dinner?" Benson suggested, as their game of monopoly came to an end, Benson having won.

Noah nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Yeah! Only no olives, please."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll can get them just on half."

Noah groaned. "Maaamaa."

"You can pick them off, Amiguito," Rafael said a touch hesitantly, trying to support his best friend a bit in this, but not entirely sure if it was his place to do so.

"But it'll be contaminated," Noah whined.

Benson sighed. "Fine, one plain pepperoni. But we've talked about this Noah, you trying different things."

Thankfully, Noah was a pretty good kid and didn't make much of a fuss the rest of the time, the small trio just being able to enjoy themselves as the ate ice cream and watched the Philosopher's Stone.

Noah didn't seem to mind his 'Uncle Rafa' being around more and didn't seem to question it. They hadn't told him about their progressing relationship yet, however, as they wanted to take things easy as well as wanting to be more on stable ground when they did so. The last thing either of then wanted was for Noah to get hurt.

Sunday, he spent largely with his mother. They went to mass and then had lunch, spending most of the day lounging around the house, listening to music, and chatting, just the two of them.

The week had passed largely without incident, and Saturday he hung out with Eddie, his son over at a friend's house, until just after four o'clock before he went back to his own place to get ready for his dinner date with Benson at Babbo's.

They'd gone with the pasta tasting menu and both had a glass of wine.

It had gone well, them just chatting and actually discussing more about their childhoods, her having some questions about what it was like for him growing up in el barrio. An interesting experience, to be fair.

"Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches from the bodega were the second-best breakfast delicacy to plátano, salami, y queso frito," he said. "I stand by that to this day."

She shook her head amused. "I still don't understand how you can stomach so much grease in the morning."

He crinkled his nose as his smiled. "Start 'em young."

She chuckled lightly. "Fair enough. You still need to show me how you make that Papaya dessert you made the other day."

He raised an eyebrow. "Dulce de Fruta bomba? I'll show you next time I'm over."

She squeezed his hand. "Can't wait."

He just smiled back at her. "So, how _was_ Loudonville? You never talk about your time there much." She didn't but from the little pieces she'd said over the years, she seemed to have liked it there.

"It was good," she said. "I met a lot of great people, and I think it was definitely the right choice for me. I needed to get out of the city."

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I get it."

The date continued to go well, not that it was the first dinner they'd gone out to, and they headed back to her place, Noah spending the night at the Rollins'.

They got home

She drew him toward her, eyes sparkling, and he inclined his face toward hers and pressed his mouth against hers. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, gentle but demanding.

His fingers gripped her hair, pulling her closer as the scent of her strawberry shampoo filled his nostrils.

They kissed for another moment before she pushed him backward against the couch the pair still making out as they lay down.

He let her strip him down to his boxers, and he helped her slip out of her clothes, discarding them off to the side, her hands then pushing at the inside of his legs to give her more room.

She started stroking him, and a wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to push through it though, but the longer she was giving him extra attention down there, the more the anxiety built up.

"Wait, Liv," he whispered. "I don't-"

She nodded, changing her position and looking at him, no judgement in her eyes, thankfully. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said softly, "I just need a moment." He looked at her. "Sorry."

She stroked his face, bedore kissing him again. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. No need to apologize."

He gave her a small, grateful, smile. 

They both sat up straight, and she pulled the small blanket laying off to the side over them, and pulled him in for a cuddle. "Love you."

"Love you too, Liv.” He spoke in a murmur, kissing her on the forehead.


	28. Resemblance

Over the next few days, Rafael was definitely kept busy. He ended up at mass with his mother, which was becoming more and more common, and had brunch with her, before he made the trip back into Manhattan to get some work done around his own home, needing to do some cleaning and buy a few groceries for the upcoming week.

He'd been looking forward to spending some time with Benson that weekend, as they'd made plans, but she ended up working most of said weekend. Investigation the very same case he was being briefed on now.

A home invasion, at first glance, ended up appearing as an accident but ended up escalating into quite the mess.

The man that broke in pretended to be a pizza delivery man. He went up to the apartment and waited until the man opened the door for him. He then used the butt of his gun to knock out Rick Karsch and later rape his Rick's girlfriend Anne, but the reason the police thought this might have been an accident or even a case of mistaken identity was because the assailant had called both Rick and Anne by the wrong names.

The police went to the couple's apartment to talk to them. They questioned this couple and they said that they didn't know anyone angry enough to want to do something like that. They also didn't know a Stacey, and so the cops found themselves nowhere with the couple. The wife, however, had come down to station afterwards and told them about an affair she had partaken in. She said that she slept with a guy a couple of weeks before calling it off and that he well and truly wouldn't take the hint. He would call her, text her, and message her on twitter. He just would not let go! He also had a gun and so the police checked him out. Besides the whole not letting her go thing, he was seemingly harmless and hadn't targeted anyone much less committed an assault and rape.

There was also later evidence that came up that cleared Brianna's ex. Unfortunately, there was another rape. The M.O was the same, with the couple involved being called Chad and Stacey, and so there was no mistake. There was a perp that was living out his own fantasy and he was doing things by a formula. The guy again pushed his way into an apartment and beat up the boyfriend before raping the young woman. There was one bit of difference with the crime and that was the violence. The second time he had gotten even more violent towards the woman and he almost killed her because he pushed her face into the sofa as she was being attacked. Another thing that stood out with this second rape was Beth because she did suspect someone in her rape. She told the police that before she met her boyfriend that she liked to go to a sex party and at the party, she ran into Riley.

Riley had needed an invitation to the party and he didn't have one. He tried to get Beth to invite him and she refused to. She thought he was some weirdo and had forgotten all about him until one day she saw him again when she was grabbing donuts and then later on the train. It took Beth a while before she realized that he was following her. She also noticed when he stopped and so she thought nothing of it until the rape. Beth didn't hide the fact that she thought her attacker was Riley. The police suspected she was right because they looked into Riley, and he was definitely _the type_. He was on the internet parroting men's rights and how rape wasn't a thing because men had the right to pursue their happiness.

The police brought in Riley and they were interrogating him regarding his whereabouts on each night the rapist had attacked when there was another one. This third attack was the most violent because the assailant killed the fiancée and still went ahead with the rape. He also called his victims by their actual names and bragged about how his friend Riley would have loved Carol. The detectives swiftly turned their attention back to Riley, and Rafael was called in and asked to come down to the 1-6.

"So, what are we looking at exactly?" he pressed. "Three different rapists?"

She gave him a curt nod. "With the exact same MO. - Sort of. Okay, so the first two called their victims 'Chad' and 'Stacey' - which you know is incel. -"

He frowned. "Incel." He gave her a look. "Ok. So what about the third rapist?"

"Okay," she explained, "so, he used the victim's real name, Carol, and he told her that he had a friend named 'O'Reilley.'"

He quirked an eyebrow. "And that's relevant because -?"

"Because survivor two told us that she had a stalker named Riley," she explained. "Now, Riley has an alibi for that rape, but he doesn't have one for the night Anne was raped. What if... What if they traded rapes?" He went to speak, but she cut him off. He decided to humour her and let her talk. "What if Riley raped Anne as a favor to his incel buddy who in turn raped Beth to get revenge for him?"

He gave her an indulgent look. "Liv -"

"Look, Rafa, just hear me out," she said. "They were all snubbed by women. They all wanted revenge. So one buddy gets it for the next. None of these guys had any particular connection to their victim. So they all alibi'd out."

He sighed. "I take it you didn't get anything from Riley?"

"No, we had to let him go."

Another sigh left his lips, and she just eyed him. "But if I could get a warrant for his computer, then I could find out a little more about his two friends and, I hate to say it, rapist No. 4."

He gave a little scoff. "Alright. I'll just have to find a judge who saw 'Strangers on a Train.' With that he turned around, walking away, manila folder in hand.

Benson's voice met his ears before he'd gotten very far. "Thank you."

Not slowing his pace any, he raised his right arm high in the air for a moment, before bringing it back down to his side, in acknowledgment. He had a meeting he had to get to with a parent of one of the witnesses for another case of his. The parent had requested it, and Rafael had grudgingly accepted it, despite his rather hectic schedule and the fact that the conversation really wasn't going to accomplish anything. He was going to take the twenty-three-year-old son to trial, regardless.

His breath felt like it was knocked out of him when the man walked in. The brunet Latino standing in front of him was of a very similar colouring, hight, and build of someone that Rafael really didn't want to think of at the moment. His vision was blurring and his heart was pounding out of his chest. He blinked, trying to pull himself together, placing his hands in his pants pockets to hide the slight trembling. He was relieved when he managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Sr. Martínez, do take a seat." He made a half-hazard gesture towards the chair in front of him, before shoving his hands in his pocket, a carefully neutral expression now plastered on his face. "You wanted to talk to me?"

The man gave him an assessing look but took the seat he'd been offered. "Sí, Sr. Barba," he said after a moment. "You're making a huge mistake. My son, he's fucked up over the years, and he's quite the _sabelotodo,_ but he's a good kid. This'll ruin him."

"I'm sorry for what you're going through," he said, "pero, señor..."

"Then drop the charges!"

"You know I can't do that," he said. "Mira, if you really want to help your son, tell your son's lawyer I'm open to a plea."

This conversation couldn't be over soon enough.


	29. Siempre

Rafael was grinning from ear to ear, a calm excitement if there was such a thing running through him, as he gave himself one last quick check in the mirror.

He scratched a tad at the thick dark hairs he now had on his chin, and looked up, smiling. He laughed as he remembered returning from stress leave and Benson seeing his beard in person for the first time.

He'd gone to stay with relatives in Miami for a short time, but he made sure to talk to her at least once a day and they face-timed regularly.

_"You grew a beard!"_

Rafael laughed earnestly at the simple fact that _that_ was his girlfriend's first thought when they actually saw each other for the first time in two months.

He still could hardly wrap around why he was getting dressed, where he was about to go. So much had changed in a few short years.

The past few years had been hectic, with more than a few ups and downs if he was honest, but now he could honestly say he was happy. Well and truly happy.

He thought back to when a suspect’s father walked into his office and he’d freaked out due to similarities in appearances and shook his head. Rafael had really come a long way. 

He had almost left the D.A's office, yet again, after some issues with BX9 and a particularly hard case, but had been talked out of it and ended up staying for another year before a midterm vacancy had come up. Surprisingly, Rafael's name was on the list of names provided by the nominating commission, something that a little birdie had later informed him, he might have Jack McCoy to thank for.

Assisted appointment meant he didn't have to run for election, at least, initially, making it way easier for him to get his foot in the door than otherwise.

It was a challenging following three months, if he was honest, but it was worth it. He liked the job, and made quite a few more connections, which come the general election just months after starting, as he did have to run to remain on the court, he was pleased to note he'd managed to get the seat, something that he hadn't thought would happen given some of his more brilliant carreer moves. He _did_ have a tendency to go against City Hall.

_Benson looked at him, clearly upset. "So the whole city's on boil."_

_"I have to convene a grand jury," he informed her, knowing she wasn't going to like it one bit. She was a cop and was, unsurprisingly on her fellow officer's side. "The D.A says it's my last chance to work my way back into the good graces of City Hall."_

_"So they're hanging you out to dry."_

_"Politicians want an indictment," he explained. "The D.A wants an indictment. If I fail to get it, it's on me."_

He shook his head. That was just one example of many from over the years. Most of which all lead back to a fiery brunette that had finally made Captain. A promotion that had been well deserved, by all accounts.

The election had been almost six months ago now, and he really was enjoying the job. It was different from prosecuting, but it was a change Rafael had needed, and it had been a goal of his for a long time.

_"I see you brought El Juez."_

_"Abuelita, I'm not a judge."_

_"You will be."_

His mother had apparently thought Rafael had damaged his chances as well, because she'd lost it more than even he had when he'd told her the news.

As for the fiery brunette and her son, life had been more than a little interesting. There had been a swarm of law enforcement suicides and one of the one's the lost had been Ed Tucker.

_As they chatted, he raised his hand and waved it slightly before giving her a look of concern. "How are you?"_

_She gave a sad little hum before lightly biting at her knuckle, her eyes watering slightly. It physically hurt to see her so upset, even if he hadn't been Ed Tucker's biggest fan. "I heard about Tucker."_

_The man had apparently had brain cancer for quite some time and instead of letting the disease take its course, he'd taken his own life with his old .38._

_Surprisingly, he'd been married and had step-children. Recently eloped, in fact. He left his wife a letter, his benefits, and his pension. He told her that he didn't want her to spend the best years of her life taking care of a dying man._

_He'd also said, what was in hindsight, a final goodbye to Benson._

_Fin had sent Rafael a text when the man had seen how heartbroken his girlfriend was over the whole thing._

_Now, the aforementioned woman looked perilously close to tears, but Benson forced a sad smile on her face. "You know, it's been rough... a lot of loss recently." He nodded, letting her speak, emotions clearly getting to her. "Time is just..."The emotions took over and she paused a moment, more than a little teary-eyed. "- flying by..."_

_He wracked his brain for something to say. He wasn't sure how to help. First her brother, although they weren't close, then Tucker. "Everyday," was what ended up rolling off his tongue._

_His girlfriend nodded and ran her hands down her face, clearly attempting to regain some of her composure._

_He rose his hand again, this time thumping it against the desk both he and Benson were standing at. "Grab your jacket. I'll take you home, Cariño." He'd then said one corny joke or another about something goofy they could do that caused her to laugh weekly. He was relieved to see some of her earlier happiness return._

_"I'd like that."_

_Once she got her jacket one, he pulled her in for a hug and kissed her on the forehead, drying the remaining tear tracks away. Knowing he had her attention he spoke softly. "Happy birthday."_

_Grinning fully now, she chuckled; music to his ears. "You're early."_

_Rafael again shook his head contentedly as he crinkled his nose, a wide toothy grin on his face. "I wanted to be the first."_

_Olivia smiled and wordlessly put her hand over her heart, in a gesture that spoke more than words could say._

_Smiling back, he returned the gesture._

As for Noah, he definitely kept things interesting. He was a really good kid, and Rafael, who never thought of himself as any sort of father material, had been surprised when he'd accidentally called Noah 'son' for the first time.

He and Noah had always been fairly close, after the initial awkwardness when he was a baby, but since the three of them had moved into their brownstone ten months back, Rafael had definitely become more comfortable with taking on more of the parent role and the two had undeniably become closer as a result, the boy's Spanish definitely fluent by this point with the Cuban accent to go with it. Rafael had to stifle a laugh every time Noah tried to help his mother with her accent.

The boy had recently started calling him Papi and taken to calling Rafael's mother Abuelita, which his mother had been more than ecstatic about.

He'd somehow built his own little family. It was small and maybe a little broken, but it was good and he honestly wouldn't change a thing about it.

A knock on the door caught his attention, and he looked over at his best man, smiling warmly. "Hermano."

Eddie smiled back. "Time to go."

He nodded, readjusting his tie some before following Eddie out to the car so they could head to the church they'd chosen for the ceremony.

His friend eyed him. "Nervous?"

He crinkled his nose happily, lyrics he'd heard from one of his favourite musicals playing through his head:

_Somebody crowd me with love._   
_Somebody force me to care._   
_Somebody let me come through,_   
_I'll always be there,_   
_As frightened as you,_   
_To help us survive,_   
_Being alive._

"Only if she doesn't show," he quipped. And she would. She always would. So no, he wasn't nervous. That might be odd, but given everything both he and his fiancée had been through, showing her off and saying he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her wasn't scary at all. They'd face what they may, as always, side by side.


End file.
